


Different You, Different Us

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-15
Updated: 2009-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years they meet in a variety of places and it's never the right time, there's always something preventing them from becoming more. This is the story of how they get to that place. (non-brothers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

-=-=-=- November 2001 -=-=-=-

Things had to of gotten pretty desperate in order for Sam to actually step foot in a store to _buy_ underwear. Sam's theory was that the black hole in the dryer that continuously devoured his socks had now developed a taste for his boxers; especially the soft jersey cotton ones that were nice, tight, comfy, and made his ass look good. Not that he paid attention to those kinds of things, but still. Maybe if it were summer Sam could put off the shopping expedition but he hated having cold nuts. Seriously. There are some things on a man's body that should not be subjected to sub zero temperatures and as far as Sam was concerned, his nuts were one of them. There was also something _really_ disconcerting about going on a hunt, facing down a vampire and knowing you were going commando. What if something clawed a hole in his jeans? No monster was going to take him seriously if his dick was hanging out a slash in his Levi's - not to mention the damage that could potentially be done.

Sam shuddered. So - this was why he squared his shoulders as he stood at the doors to Wal-Mart staring down the little old ladies who drove straight at him with their shopping carts. He bolted through the front doors, took a quick look around and headed straight to the men's wear department. It wasn't hard to spot. There were men in it. It only took him a few minutes to find the underwear; after all, he was a hunter. The packages were lined up like little soldiers and Sam took a few more minutes to look at them with the convenient little pictures illustrating the _type_ of boxers. Jersey boxers! Medium! His hand darted out and his fingers wrapped around... another hand.

-=-=-=-

There was nothing Dean hated more than fuckin' Wal-Mart on a fuckin' Sunday. The aisles were packed with too many people - mostly families with kids running around the cart and screaming at the top of their lungs - and seriously, couldn't these people control their kids? Because Dean had nearly tripped over half a dozen of them and if they weren’t careful he was gonna snap and lose it and blow out the skylight with one quick pull from his holster. Marveling at his own thoughts, Dean has to take a moment to pause and collect himself before he really did snap. Somehow pulling a gun in Wal-Mart - no matter how crazy ass busy it was - didn't seem like it would go over very well.

It was his own fault he was here anyway. For months he had been putting things off, letting his pile of clothing deteriorate before his eyes until his boxers were thin enough you could see _through_ them. And now it wasn’t even just the boxers, those were just the most important. Dean's list was long enough he needed a fuckin' grocery cart, which only served to make his mood even worse because he had to steer the cart through the masses. While considering his temporary insanity, Dean let his eyes drift down to locate the jersey boxers he preferred and something hard smacked him in the back of thigh. Stupid ass kids throwing Nerf footballs around. Which was why he didn't realize his hand was in the direct path of another until their skin was touching and he was looking slightly up.

The boy - man, young man... more boy than anything really - was an inch or two taller than him, skinny, scraggly brown hair hanging in his eyes. He still had that awkward stance about him, like maybe he had just recently hit a growth spurt and was trying to figure out how to control his long limbs. Dean blinked at him, eyebrows drawing together and pulled back his hand when he realized it was still against the stranger's. "Uh... go ahead," he gestured toward the packages of boxers.

Sam groaned internally. It was bad enough he had to shop for underwear but now he had to actually grab a guy while doing it. He glanced out from under his hair at the other man as he pulled two packets of underwear off the peg. "Thanks - I really... I like these kind." _Stop talking, Sam, Stop talking now._ The man had rough hands, nice hands, and looked like he could handle himself well in a fight. Then Sam made the fatal mistake of looking up into the guy’s eyes. It wasn't so much that they were huge and had long black lashes, or that they were a stunning color; green but kind of like if you could take the color of moss or something and make it liquid, but they just looked sexy, hot. Sam's throat suddenly closed up a little. "I... they're soft and warm." _Fuck_ His mouth snapped shut but he couldn't seem to get his feet to move. Brushing his hair off his face he smiled dopily, knowing he was making a complete and utter _ass_ of himself.

Dean would have laughed if he could remember how to make that noise in his throat. Currently though, all he could remember to do was swallow and nod and reach up to grab three packages from the rack. The last thing he wanted was a return trip to Wal-Mart any time in the next six months. "I... yeah. These. Um... they fit just right. You know? Especially when you're... walking." Dean looked down at the packages in his hands and scowled slightly. Apparently making an idiot of himself was number one on today's to do list.

Sam hadn't meant to glance down at the man's ass, but really, they were talking about underwear. He cleared his throat. And, the ass _was_ nice. "I... I hadn't thought about the walking thing." Sam didn't like it when his underwear rode up, but then, who did? "The..." he gestured over to the next row of pegs, "undershirts here are the same material. If you like that kind of stuff..." Chewing on his bottom lip he took a step back, nervously fiddling with the packages he held.

"Uh... yeah," Dean nodded, glancing at the spot where the man had pointed. "I like those, the collar ride just low enough..." his face scrunched together in annoyance at himself. What the hell was he doing? Having some conversation with some random kid about boxers and undershirts? In the middle of Wal-Mart on the busiest day of the week? Dean was used to the supernatural shit, this was just weird.

"Okay," Sam smiled shyly and ran his hand quickly through his hair, "I gotta, guess I should," he gestured with his packages toward the cash registers.

Dean nodded and turned from the boy, man, kid, whatever. But as he moved away Dean's eyes shifted to follow the body, trace along the back, down to the curve of... well... Dean pulled his eyes away before he could dwell too much on any curve of muscle. Staring down at the packages in his hand, Dean blinked a few times before tossing them into the cart, shaking his head and curling his hand around the slightly sticky handle. With a grimace, he pulled his hand back and just barely missed running over three kids on the way to the dry foods section.

-=-=-=- June 2002 -=-=-=-

It was a rarely known fact that some of the best food in the world could be found in middle of nowhere diners. Of course you always ran the risk of finding equally bad food but Dean thought it was a risk worth taking. So when he saw the diner 'Hole N the Wall', well Dean couldn’t resist pulling over. It had been a couple hours since he ate anyway and there was always room for a cheeseburger and a piece of pie when you used as much energy as Dean did. There were only half a dozen cars out front and Dean pulled into the closest space, pushing open the door of his Impala and stepping out on dark pavement. Heat settled over him like he'd just walked into a steam room and he lifted the edge of his leather coat, flapping it slightly.

Just as he considered taking it off he stepped past the diner's threshold into the chilly interior and decided keeping it on would be just fine. The waitress behind the counter was snapping her gum, loud enough that it - and the muttering of the cooks behind the window - where the only things he could hear. Some old fifties rock song started playing over the speakers as he stepped up to the nearest stool and leaned against the shiny red counter top. It only took him a quick scan at the menu to find a double cheeseburger, complete with fries and a chocolate milkshake. Sounded like his perfect kind of meal.

"What can I get ya doll?" The waitress smacked the words around shiny pink bubblegum and leaned her hip against the sink. She gave him a big, watery, doe-eyed smile and Dean might have been interested if her hair didn't look like a wig and her lipstick wasn't smeared across her teeth. And if he didn't have a hunt a good two hundred miles away that he'd promised his dad he’d check out as soon as possible.

So he simply placed his order and gave her a half smile before dropping his eyes to the menu until she walked away to place the order. When she was down at the other end of the counter talking to a large man with a six inch beard, Dean raised his head and cast curious eyes around the diner. They always tended to be decorated the same, forties or fifties memorabilia, juke box in the far wall. Or overly campy local decor that never ceased to amuse him.

Dean's attention was drawn the other direction when the door to the bathroom opened. And then _he_ stepped out. It was an odd feeling at first, like déjà vu. Brown hair seemingly everywhere, in his eyes, across his ears, every direction. It looked like he might have grown an inch or more in the past oh... seven or so months since that time in Wal-Mart. And if Dean were in a different line of work he might have not even realized it was the same guy. But the image of him had this tendency to randomly appear in Dean's mind at odd moments so now it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.

Still he was not going to be the one to say something. But seriously... what were the odds? Randomly meeting in Wal-Mart, that was one thing. Meeting for a second time in a diner in the middle of nowhere? It was the type of thing Dean would investigate if he thought the man was something dangerous. Didn't seem likely. So he dropped his eyes and let his fingers drum along the counter surface.

Sam walked over to the front counter, tugging on his shirt away from his damp skin. It was hot and Sam was tired of his clothes sticking to his chest and back. He really needed to get a car with air conditioning, well; he could just add that to his list of things he needed to get. It wasn't easy trying to hunt at his age; he had kind of started from scratch with nothing. So, yeah, the air conditioning would have to wait.

"Excuse me," Sam tried to get the waitress' attention as she whipped past leaving a trail of perfume behind her. When she completely ignored him to head straight for the kitchen Sam shrugged and leaned against the counter. Maybe she was on her way to get his food. Sighing Sam tugged at his shirt again and glanced at the man standing next to him. He did a double take, the guy looked really familiar. "Hey," he tilted his head trying to get a better look at the guy's face, "don't I know you?" Even as he said it he realized how much it sounded like a cheesy pick up line and cringed inwardly.

Dean cleared his through and rapped his knuckles along the cool surface of the counter. Tilting his head slightly toward the man, Dean let his eyes linger over his features, taking him in and using the time as a pretense to thinking over the man's question. "Hmm..." he hummed in thought as his eyes flickered over a firm jaw line, thin, light pink lips, and high cheekbones. "Jersey boxers." He let his hand fall on the counter and the corner of his lip lifted up. Weird that he didn't even know the man's name but he knew what type of underwear he wore.

Of course, Sam knew who the man was the moment he looked up. He wouldn't be forgetting those eyes any time soon; they were still the same startling color. Sam chuckled, "Ahh yeah, that's right... dude... kind of freaky meeting again." And really, it was, because being a hunter meant that Sam's movements were pretty random all things considered. "Boxers," he muttered, hand moving nervously to his hair, "weird."

"More than freaky," Dean nodded and frowned, let his eyes scan around the diner, pinpointing the waitress as she came around the corner. "You stalkin' me or something?" He let his eyes dart back to the man before dropping down to the counter once more. His shoulders were slightly tense, senses telling him to be prepared for the unexpected like he'd been trained to his entire life.

"What?" Sam's brow furrowed, "no..." the full meaning of the man's question sunk in through Sam's heat-addled brain, "no. I'm getting a chef's salad and a coke." He blinked and pushed up off the counter. Touchy guy. Sam offered the guy a tentative smile and turned to walk over to the pie case; obviously he was big on personal space or privacy or something.

Of course Dean realized moments after he said it that there was no possible way this guy was stalking him. After all, he'd already been here when Dean showed up. With a soft sigh he pushed up and followed the man to the pie case, he wanted a piece anyway, good to scout out the selection. "I'm sorry; it's uh... inherit habit to be overly paranoid." He tucked his hands deep into his pockets and rocked forward slightly, eyes drifting across the sugary food.

"S'okay," Sam smiled brightly, glad he hadn't done anything wrong. It was tough being nineteen. Not only did Sam feel like he was all arms and legs, a foot taller than a lot of people but he nearly always felt like he was blundering through social contact. It wasn’t like he had all that many opportunities to practice. "When I was comin' in here? A trucker told me that cherry pie was the best in this part of the state." He leaned over to look at it.

Dean considered the piece of cherry pie in the case and shrugged, "Seems like it could be. Is it cherry season? I like apple pie the most." He lifted his hand and tapped on the glass at a particularly large piece of apple pie. "That's my baby right there." He grinned and glanced over at the young man to watch the curve of his dimples as he smiled.

Shoving his hands in his pockets Sam looked up at the other man. There was a dusting of freckles across his cheek, pretty much all over his face actually. Sam liked it - it was unusual. There were a lot of things about this guy that were unusual. It wasn't lost on Sam that he didn't miss much, Sam knew the look, the way he kept his back to the wall - glanced around the room periodically. Strange. "You like pie?" _Great question, Sam._

"I do," Dean nodded and let his eyes drop to the guy’s feet, taking in his boots. Always assessing. He wondered what this young man's story was, what brought him to this diner in the middle of nowhere. Everyone always had some sort of history but Dean knew if asked he wouldn't say anything about his, so he kept his mouth shut on the subject. "So chef's salad huh? That's kind of..." he gestured his hand from side to side and smirked softly.

"Kind of...?" A small V appeared between Sam's eyebrows while he tried to figure out what the guy was talking about. Then it hit him. Sam's face relaxed into a bewildered expression. It couldn't be that obvious that he had checked the guy out a little. It's not like he checked out _all_ guys, he checked out girls too. "I... ya can't live off burgers alone, dude." He coughed suddenly really uncomfortable and _entirely_ too worried about where he was looking.

"It's gotten me to twenty two," Dean shrugged and chuckled softly, eyes lifting to watch a car drive past the diner. "Speaking of, I'm starving, what's takin' them so long? It's not like there's much of a crowd." He turned to watch the waitress walking behind the counter, noting the way the guy seemed to fidget slightly and wondering if he knew something Dean didn't.

Smiling Sam turned and walked back over to the counter. "Is that my salad?" He raised his eyebrows at the waitress and gave her his best grin.

"Oh yes! It is sweetheart would you like a bun to go with that, on the house? You look a little thin! Doesn't your mama feed you?" She patted Sam's cheek, but he didn't miss the fact that she had a good look at his chest at the same time. When she turned around to grab the bun he glanced over at Dean and cringed conspiratorially. He pulled his money clip out and paid the waitress leaving her a more than generous tip and took a step back towards, who had now become "pie guy" in his mind.

"So," Sam smiled, brushing his hair back from his forehead and crunching the paper bag under his arm, "guess I'll see you randomly again sometime?"

Dean nodded and dropped into a stool. "Yeah, maybe," he smiled slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. With a half turn over his shoulder, he watched the man practically bend in half to slide behind the driver's seat. Dean had noted the green GTO with a nod of appreciation when he pulled in, a '66 or '67 he thought. Knowing mystery guy drove it made him respect the stranger more. Obviously he had taste. Turning back, Dean smiled at the waitress as she set a plate of food and a shake in front of him.

-=-=-=- February 2003 -=-=-=-

It was going to take days for Sam to get the taste of whatever-the-hell green goo had come flying across the room at him earlier that evening – out of his mouth. He was getting _really_ tired of hunting by himself. Maybe disgusting green goo wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him, but Sam was pretty sure if there had been someone with him he would have been warned in time to duck at least. He freaking hated poltergeists. Not only were they miserable bastards, but they didn't seem to have any boundaries - they would do anything to get back at a hunter. After trying Listerine and toothpaste Sam headed to the bar to try a stiff drink to get rid of the flavor.

He folded his tall frame onto a bar stool and ordered a whiskey, "straight up."

The bar was the usual, dark and musky, cigarette smoke lingering in the air and Dean headed straight for the stools the minute he stepped past the threshold. His eyes pulled in the surroundings, observing the few people milling about. There were a couple by the pool table. Dean would evaluate their skill levels and figure out which one he could scam easiest. Until then he'd pretend to be casual, strolling to the stool with his hand in his pocket, dropping down onto the flat surface, leaving two empty between him and the man to the right of him. His hand lifted for the bar tender, ordering a beer and a shot before his fingers fell against the counter surface.

Lifting his eyes, Dean glanced casually at the person just along the bar from him, looked back down then up again. "Holy shit," he breathed and turned in his seat. It was like a punch in the gut only because it was the last thing he expected. _He_ was the last thing he expected. "Jersey boxers," he said and extended his hand out to the guy, letting it fall on the counter top between them.

Looking over, Sam laughed softly, "uh... it's Sam actually." Turning slightly he stretched his legs out, "we meet again." Still the same eyes; he just looked a little surprised to see Sam. It kind of made Sam's stomach flip a little because the guy suddenly didn't look quite as guarded as he had before. Sam stuck his hand out to shake.

"Dean," he offered and let his hand fall against the man's. Sam. It seemed oddly fitting, though Dean couldn't say he'd given much thought before as to what the guy's name could be. Now though he noticed his arms seemed just the slightest bit fuller, shirt not so much hanging off him as it was beginning to fit him. His jaw line looked firmer too. His hair though... still long and dangling in his eyes enough that Sam had to flip it back, still oddly stunning. "Honestly never thought we'd run into each other again. That's gotta be like one in a million right?"

Sam had to actually _concentrate_ to make sure that he let go of the guys hand. It was warm, rough, working man's hands; his grip was strong and Sam felt a little thrill at the heat of his skin. He knew his cheeks were pinking up a little so he turned back to his whiskey and lifted it to his mouth. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a Whiskey drinker and while the nasty liquid got rid of the taste in his mouth he coughed rather suddenly, his eyes tearing up.

Dean couldn't help the soft chuckle as he lifted the beer to his lips and took a long pull. When Sam continued to cough he rose, scooting his drinks along the bar and plopping down in the seat beside the man, patting him on the back in three quick slaps. "Here. Drink this," he pushed the beer to Sam and nodded at the bar tender to bring him another. Sam curled his fingers around the bottle and Dean smirked slightly, leaning back in his seat. "Better?"

Sam took a long gulp of beer, wiped his mouth and let out a happy sigh, "much." He chuckled, a little embarrassed, "I had this taste in my mouth... God... gross, thought the Whiskey might help." Clearing his throat one last time he held the beer up toward Dean then took another drink. "Next one's on me." _What an idiot._ Of course, Sam couldn't have know that the green-eyed-guy, well, _Dean_ would show up just as he decided to try some whiskey for the first time.

"Sounds fair," Dean nodded and tipped back the shot, setting the glass on the counter before reaching for his beer. The alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat and he considered Sam's profile as he followed the drink up with a large pull from his beer bottle. If Dean were more of a math type of guy he might actually try to calculate the odds of meeting up with this... _Sam_ for the third time in a completely random place. Thankfully he wasn't so he wrote the whole thing off as sheer, dumb luck. Though why it was luck in his mind he couldn't be sure. Guy seemed nice though, so it couldn't be a bad thing. "Are you even old enough to be in here?" He asked with a sly grin, leaning toward Sam slightly in case the bar tender was near enough to hear.

Sam looked down at the bar in front of him, fiddling with his beer bottle. "Well, I'm old enough for most things," he spoke softly, leaning toward Dean, "but I might be a few months shy of bar legal." He smiled, and then it occurred to him that he might be putting Dean in an awkward position. "Not a big deal..." he shrugged.

"No, not really. Who hasn't drunk before twenty one anyway?" He chuckled and pulled from the beer bottle once more. He opened his mouth to say more but the ringing of his phone had him stopping. Pulling it out of his pocket he frowned and held up a finger to Sam before turning slightly and pressing the device to his ear. "Yeah? No... I'm at a bar. No... had to get... no I'm not... Alright, should take a good day's drive though... okay. Yeah. Yeah Dad. Alright. I will. Just don't-" Dean pulled back as the line disconnected in his ear, frowning at it before tucking it back in his pocket. He turned back to Sam and shrugged. "Parents."

"Yeah?" Sam's mind flashed back to better days when his parents were still alive. There had been times over the past few years when he would have given anything for a nagging phone call from one of them. "Your Dad? He live near here or somethin'?" Sam spent quite a bit of time some days wondering what people did if they had parents. What would Sam be doing? Would he be driving to his folks place on holidays to cut the lawn and tell them what he'd been doing? Would he be living near them?

"Not exactly," Dean shook his head and pulled at the label of his beer bottle. "He just needs me to check up on something. He always needs something when he calls." Dean stopped picking at the paper and turned to Sam, flinching slightly. "Sorry. Don't know where that came from. I guess I just..." he shook his head and pulled at his bottle. Really, Dean just needed to shut up before the guy asked a question he couldn't get out of without flat out lying and Dean kind of hated lying. Especially when the person seemed as nice as Sam did. "Anyway. What brings you here? You live around here?"

It's not like Sam hadn't been asked that questions hundreds of times. He just didn't really want to lie to Dean for some reason. He seemed like the kind of guy that liked it straight up, true. "My Dad's dead." Sam blinked a few times, looking down at his hands where they were pressed against the bar. "Well, both my Mom and Dad... are... so." He shrugged a shoulder, swallowed and looked over at Dean.

Frown deepening, Dean turned in his seat to face Sam. "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that. It... yeah, my mom... she's dead too. So it sucks," he nodded and wet his lips, turning back to his beer. What a weird conversation Dean was finding himself in, oddly compelled to confess things to this mostly random guy. Not as random as a complete stranger through so that counted for something. "When did it happen? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"I was sixteen," his brow furrowed, "four years ago." How do you start to even talk about the fact that your parents were killed by some ghost kid without having people call an ambulance to come pick you up for shock treatment? "S'tough when you're a kid- but," he swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, "kids are resilient." He dragged a hand down his face and nodded at Dean's bottle, "you want another?" It was lonely sometimes, hunting. Sam felt like his day was so routine he could move through most of it with his eyes closed. Talking was different, good.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and looked up at the bar tender. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like to lose both parents at that age. It obviously still wore heavily on the man so Dean decided not to push the subject any further. Though the hunter in him was all too curious as to what caused it. Snatching at the beer the moment the bar tender brought two fresh ones over, his eyes drifted to the pool table. "So..." he wracked his brain for a topic. It had been a _long_ time since he tried to have a conversation without someone that didn't involve the words 'paranormal' or 'kill’ or well, ‘fuck.’ "You uh... go to school or something?"

Choking on the mouthful of beer he was trying to swallow, Sam eventually managed a laugh. "No man... I've been out of school since my folks..." Turning to Dean, he smiled and shoved his hair out of his eyes, "I used to think I wanted to be a mechanic. I work on my own car a lot, learned mostly from Library books. Do you like cars?" Sam's eyes moved over the lines of Dean's face. He was a good looking guy, his lips were... yeah... good.

With a slight grin Dean nodded. "Yeah, I did some mechanic work when I was a teenager. I noticed your GTO last time. Good car. Not quite up to my baby's standards but it'll do," he smirked and pulled from his beer. "I drive an Impala by the way, '67. She's the best car imaginable." It was much easier to talk on something he was familiar with and Dean relaxed slightly into his seat, eyes doing just one quick once over the bar to observe where everyone was.

"V8," Sam nodded, "you got that fancy SS suspension? Chevy's not my thing but I read a lot." Sam smiled and took another drink. Cars - one of the universal languages of the world. Good thing Sam spent a lot of time at the Library.

Dean nodded, grinning even brighter at Sam. "Yeah the works. It's really the suspension that does it you know? Course we've had to overhaul a bit over the years but I swear, almost forty years later and she still purrs." He brought a hand up to rub along the back of his neck, looking at Sam with a higher level of appreciation. Clearly he wasn't just trying to BS his way through car talk and he thought that he could really get to like this guy given the opportunity. He was already half way there anyway.

"I bet... nothing better than that sound..." Sam grinned. He was willing to bet that Dean made some pretty nice sounds given the right _stimulation_. Pushing his beer a little further away he shook his head, obviously drinking so fast on an empty stomach wasn't such a great idea. "You know much about motorcycles? I always kinda wanted one," he chuckled, "not too practical for carrying everything you own though."

With a nod Dean drummed his fingers along the counter top, "Yeah they're alright. I think if you have a nice steady place to live, and another vehicle, then a motorcycle is a good leisurely thing but... that just ain't me. Plus I think the helmets make people look a little retarded sometimes. On me they would anyway." Dean slicked a hand along the side of his hair. "Not gettin' anywhere with helmet hair." He grinned over at Sam.

Laughing, Sam threw his head back. "Dude - if I wore a helmet my hair would just look stupid. I should get it cut." He always thought about getting it cut at the wrong times, like at night in a bar instead of in the afternoon when it was actually an option. Dean's hair was short, probably the kind of guy who hopped out of the shower and ran his hand through and was ready to hit the road.

"I think you should keep it long," Dean noted then bit down on his tongue. He had no idea why he said that, since the long hair thing had pretty much been the first thing he noticed every time he met the man. But trying to picture Sam with shorter hair was too weird. It was obvious Sam was the type of man who could work the long hair style, Dean knew he wasn't, and it didn't seem like Sam could wear his hair short so it worked. "Though I would stay clear of helmets."

A soft smile worked its way onto Sam's face and he looked down. He'd like to think that Dean was, maybe, a little interested in him - but he usually wasn't that lucky. Guys who looked like Dean weren't the kind of guy who picked up twenty-year old guys in bars. _Not_ that Sam was even looking to _be_ picked up. He really shouldn't have had the second beer. "You staying in town long?"

"Just for the night... gotta get..." Dean's eyes flickered to the pool table then back to Sam. "Needed a rest. What about you?"

Sam noticed Dean glancing across the room. Probably scouting out someone to spend some quality time with. "You need to get going." Sam's lips twitched into a small smile, "'s'okay, I didn't mean to keep you, I should get going anyway, had a long day." He slid off the bar stool and pushed up to his full height, tugging his jeans down. "Listen, it was nice to finally talk to you, Dean." It was actually making him feel a little disappointed that the conversation was over but then, he was on the move all the time so there was really no point in trying to get to know someone.

With a nod Dean stood as well and rubbed his palm on his thigh. He was oddly sad to have the man go but he'd be kicking himself tomorrow when he ran out of funds and had to call up his dad so there was still work to be done. "Yeah Sam, hey... maybe we'll meet again. Seems to be happening a lot." He chuckled and held his hand out for Sam, oddly compelled by the urge to touch the guy once more, just to make sure he was real and not some twisted thing of Dean's imagination.

Sam shook Dean's hand and couldn't resist running his thumb quickly over the back of the man's hand. Smooth and warm. Sam smiled and gently punched a fist into Dean's shoulder, "take it easy, have a goodnight." He strode across the bar, turning once just as he opened the door in time to see Dean smiling and walking towards a guy who was playing pool. He slipped out the door wondering when he'd ever be in one place long enough to actually meet... someone.

Dean's shoulder and hand tingled for the rest of the night, long after he left with his winnings and settled into his motel bed. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about shaggy brown hair and warm hazel eyes. About deep dimples and a bright smile. With a huff he rolled onto his side and told himself it was ridiculous to lose any sleep over Sam because, seriously, there was no way they'd meet again. Once was normal, he met different people all the time. Twice was freaky but not completely unheard of even if it was hundreds of miles from the first place they met. Three times... well that was just plan bizarre. Four times would be on a completely different level of weird that Dean didn't not operate on.

Forcing his eyes shut and the thoughts from his mind, Dean fell into a restless sleep in which Sam only made a few brief appearances.

-=-=-=- December 2003 -=-=-=-

Dean kind of hated Christmas. Not so much the act of Christmas, because who didn't like getting presents? It was more the fact that he hadn't had anyone to give him presents in years. Well there was always his dad but they hadn't done the Christmas thing since before he hit puberty and even then, Dean had been lucky to see his dad on the holiday. Bobby had always been pretty good to him if he happened to be dropped off there during the season but the most he generally got was a weapon of some sort or a book on demon lore. So seeing families constantly crowded round, laughing and hugging, it made Dean a little more morose than he generally was.

Which is why he currently had two six packs under his arm and the duffel slung over his shoulder as he headed for the motel room, key dangling between his fingers. His plan was to get outrageously drunk and sleep through the next day. Then he'd wake up and it would be the twenty sixth and he'd be free of the stupid holiday thing for another year. Christmas was the only one that really got to him anyway.

The sound of a door opening a few doors down had him looking up, constantly on alert for the next thing. When a guy walked out, head ducked down, Dean turned back to his own door and stuck the key in the lock. Then he blinked at the painted red door, lifted his head and turned. No. Way.

"Sam?" He called out, watching the shaggy hair hanging in front of the man's dipped down head.

Sam's face broke into a warm smile. "Holy shit. Dean." Sam strode forward, hands jammed in his pockets. "How you doing?" Dean looked good, although his face was a little drawn like he wasn't sleeping enough.

It was pretty surreal to see the man standing there and Dean had to take in his features for a few minutes before he could get his mind to work. "Oh uh, you know, I'm alright. Just... not a big holiday fan," he chuckled and shifted the six packs under his arms. "What about you? You headin' out for the night?"

"Was gonna go out and get a beer, rough day..." his voice trailed off. He _hated_ this time of year. It was lonely having no family but nothing made it worse than the holidays that everyone else spent with their relatives. Even going to the diner earlier had been painful. There was a family, kids, grandparents, Aunts and Uncles all crowded around three tables that were jammed together. They were laughing and telling stories, the kids were being told to share their desserts and the Uncles were laughing big belly laughs. "What about you?"

Dean shifted his body so Sam could see the two six packs. "You wanna come in? I've got enough to share. Not gonna be the best company but there's no sense drinking alone when we can drink together right?" He smiled softly at Sam. The idea was certainly not a bad one. It would be nice to have someone around... even if they hardly knew each other. With all the people Dean _didn't_ know, Sam had a weird sense of familiarity to him. And really, he'd technically met the guy two years ago, even if it had been in front of stand of underwear in the middle of Wal-Mart.

Sam scratched the back of his head and looked down at his watch. He really had nowhere else to be but he didn't want to seem quite as desperate for company as he was. "Yeah," he nodded, "yeah, that'd be cool." He reached out for the beer, "need a hand there?"

"Yeah thanks," Dean shifted more so Sam could take the six packs and he lugged his bag back over his shoulder as it slipped. Things seemed just a little less dreary now and Dean shoved the key into the lock, turning it and shouldering the door open. It was just like any other nondescript motel room in any other random city so Dean didn't even bother looking around. Just tossed his bag against the wall near the bed and turned to Sam who was standing by the table. The walls were puke green and washed out orange and Dean scrunched his face together. "You ever wonder who does the decorating in these places? I swear it's like walkin' into a tacky '70's porno sometimes."

Chuckling Sam put the beer down by the fridge, "I've had worse rooms. These ones have magic fingers." He nodded with a crooked grin on his face. He pulled a beer out of the pack and held it out to Dean then shrugged his coat off. "You not gettin' together with your Dad for Christmas?" Sam looked around the room; there was one chair and a bed so he stood.

With a slight grimace Dean took the beer and kicked off his boots, dropped down onto the bed. "Nah, we don't really do the holiday thing. Or the gettin' together thing. Only time I ever see him is if he needs help on a h- job. Then it's just a couple quick days and he's generally gone without a goodbye." He shrugged and tilted his head up to look at Sam. "Make yourself comfortable, gonna hurt my neck to look up at you all night Sasquatch."

Sam moved over and settled into the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "What kind of work do you do with your Dad?" Curiosity had always been one of Sam's downfalls. Of course, curiosity, for a hunter was a good thing, well, most of the time.

Working his lower lip between his teeth, Dean stalled by twisting the cap off his beer and bringing it to his lips for several long pulls. Finally he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and answered, "We help people." He didn't offer any more and he shifted back on the bed slightly, considering Sam. "What do you do? Obviously it has you traveling quite a bit." There was no better way than to distract from something you didn't want to answer by throwing a question back at a person and Dean used the tactic now because confessing to hunting supernatural creatures to the only person who actually might keep him company for the evening didn't seem like the smartest move.

Sam shrugged a shoulder and rubbed a hand across his chest, "I like to travel, pick up odd jobs here and there to keep me going. All I really need is gas and food and a room to crash in sometimes. I sleep in the car a lot - although that's not as easy as it was a few years ago." He grinned and gestured towards his legs with his beer bottle.

"Yeah I'd noticed," Dean chuckled and considered what Sam's life must be like. He traveled because it was all he knew. There was no other option for him. Doing it just because... it was hard to picture. "So you got nowhere to be on a night like tonight? Christmas eve and all..." he pulled of the label from his beer, rolled it between his fingers before pressing it into the denim stretching across his thigh.

Shaking his head Sam slouched down in the chair crossing his legs at the ankle. "I got no one... didn't know either set of Grandparents, lost track of most everyone else. I guess I got a few friends here and there but, you know..." Sam took a swig of beer, "it's family time for most folks." Sam tried not to look uncomfortable. No one liked to be around anyone who was all miserable and self-defeating because of the Holiday blues.

"For most folks," Dean agreed and scratch at a spot on his cheek. He finished the rest of his beer silently, pushing up off the bed and walking over to retrieve another one. "I know Mr. Budweiser and I were planning on a full night of drunken sulking." He chuckled and headed back to the bed with the second bottle. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I... it'd be nice. Having someone around." Dean may have already finished a good half of a bottle of Jack at the bar before he pulled up to the motel and that could possibly be affecting the words coming out of his mouth. Didn't make them untrue however so Dean shrugged it off. Wasn't like Sam wasn't being given an out, let the man choose his own fate. Even if it was a slightly drunk Winchester.

Sam didn't have to think about it, but he was quiet for a few moments. "Yeah, I'm game. We can trash the holidays, drink, and sleep through tomorrow." He beamed over at Dean and took another swallow of beer. "So - you travel a lot too - so you got a girl somewhere?"

With a snort of laughter Dean shook his head and tipped his beer back. "Nah, no girl. No... no one. Too complicated you know?" He shrugged and pulled once more from his beer. "I should warn you, I may already be a little drunk. From earlier. So you're probably a few steps behind."

Sam's smile toned down a little, "and this is a bad thing? Maybe I'll get all your secrets out of you." He chuckled.

"Steel trap," Dean tapped the side of his head. "What about you? Got yourself a girl somewhere wishin' you were there with her?" He smirked a little though his gut did this odd flip and clench thing he couldn't quite place. So he blamed it on the alcohol and finished his second beer.

"Nah, only ever had two relationships and neither of them turned out so well." That was kind of an understatement. Sam had dated a girl for a few weeks just outside of Tulsa - problem was - she didn't quite get the idea that he was going to be on the road a lot. She just wasn't _enough_. Certainly not enough of a reason for him to stop hunting; it was what he knew. Then Shane had come along in Little Rock. Sam had never been with a guy before and things went a little quick. Shane took his hesitancy to be disinterest and it all kind of fell apart. Sam's heart had been a bit dented by that one and he'd decided that it probably wasn't all that wise to bother trying to be with anyone. "It's hard, I move around a lot..."

Nodding, Dean pushed up and only slightly stumbled in pursuit of his second beer. "I get that. I travel too, have been my whole life. So everything I've had... it's been more like _almost_ somethings," he shrugged and twisted the cap off his beer. "So you just been travelin' since your parents passed away?" He asked softly, eyes trailing over the extended lines of Sam's body, taking him in. His muscles had firmed up a little more, seemed like they were getting that way more and more each time Dean saw him again.

He could feel Dean's eyes on him and shifted nervously, "yeah, I got my Dad's car and just got in it and started drivin'. Seemed like the right thing to do. Guess I figured one day I would get far enough away and... just stop." Smiling up at Dean he shrugged yet again, "guess I haven't got far enough yet." Sam took a few big gulps of beer, feeling a little uncomfortable - he had no idea why he was compelled to tell his guy so much - it's not like he even had the excuse of being drunk. "What about you? I keep running into you all over the place."

Clearing his throat with another pull from the beer bottle, Dean leaned forward until his arms rested on his thighs. "This life... it's all I know. My dad and I have been on the road since my mom passed when I was four. Don't think I'll ever settle down and have a normal thing, you know, wife and kids, white picket fence. It's just not me. I'm not a kid person. Hell, I don't even think I'm a wife person. If I ever ended up with someone they'd have to adjust to my life and that's a big if." Blinking a few times, Dean lifted his gaze from the floor and chuckled. "Apparently my steel trap is failing me."

Smiling, Sam nodded, “it's just my amazing people skills. I can get a secret out of anyone." He winked and kicked out at Dean's foot, "S'my amazing ninja skills of trickery. You should see me wrestle." He chuckled, amused at himself.

"I can only imagine. You're like, a giant," Dean mused and smirked at him, sliding back on the bed so he could stretch his legs out and rest his back against the headboard. "I'll have to wrestle you sometime. Pretty sure I could win. I've got my own set of amazing ninja skills." Dean pulled from his beer and told himself he was not flirting, though it kind of sounded a little like flirting. But then again, Dean already knew he got a little flirty when he was drunk.

Sam blew out a dismissive breath between tight lips and smiled. "Yeah, whatever dude, I've taken down bigger guys than you. It's all about balance you know, center of gravity and all that." Sam laughed and emptied his beer bottle sliding it onto the table behind him. "So you look pretty buff, you work out a lot?" He realized that kind of implicated him as soon as the words were out of his mouth but, what the hell, he'd just make sure he kept handing Dean beer.

With a wide smirk Dean flexed his arms and stared down at his muscles. "It comes with the territory," he chuckled and finished off his beer. Sam's words seemed a little weird in his head but then it occurred to him that it was only because it seemed Sam was flirting in return. So... they were flirting with each other. Which was a little odd but not so bad. And it had been awhile since... and well Sam was fairly attractive guy. Actually, he was pretty gorgeous now that Dean thought about it. Dean wasn't too familiar with the being with a guy thing, had only fooled around once with one and that was a three way with a girl so it didn't necessarily count, but still. Dean could imagine doing _things_ with Sam. And... holy shit he needed another beer. His mind was getting way ahead of itself. "Can you bring me 'nother one?" He asked and batted his lashes at Sam with a grin.

Sam stood and leaned down to grab another beer, walked over and held it out to Dean. After Dean grabbed it Sam shoved Dean's feet out of the way and sat down on the bottom of the bed. Seriously, that grin kind of rocked Sam's brain a little. He'd pretty much do anything Dean asked him if he looked at him like that. Shaking his head Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Comes with the territory..." he echoed, "which was?" Smirking he glanced at Dean from under his lashes.

"My job," Dean twisted off the cap of his beer and stretched his legs out, casually letting his feet drop in Sam's lap. That one touch alone felt so... intense. And it wasn't because he had a foot fetish or anything. It had more to do with the fact that Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd just touched someone without the active pursuit of potential sex behind it. "You're gettin' some muscles too there Sammy boy." He chuckled and peered at Sam as he sipped from his beer again, judging his reactions to Dean's feet in his lap.

Staring up at Dean's face for a few moments, Sam took a steadying breath then let his hand fall casually on Dean's shin. "I work out when I can - trying to get over that tall and gangly, goofy thing I got goin' on." No, Sam didn't have much self-confidence. He pretty much had none. It wasn't easy being six foot five and alone. Either people hit on him, expecting him to be something far different from what he was, or they just ignored him. There was no happy medium in his life. The heat from Dean's leg was seeping through his jeans and warming the palm of Sam's hand. He shifted a little, his jeans feeling a little tight all of a sudden.

Chuckling softly, Dean let his leg closest to Sam's body shift a little closer to him. "It's working. I've noticed the change." He let his eyes fall shut as he finished off his beer, opening them to set the bottle on the night stand. The buzz in his brain was pleasant and Dean decided to ride it out. If he drank more he'd get too drunk and not responsible for his actions. At this point it was a happy medium. "So Sammy..." he practically hummed the name, eyes settling on the faint coloring across Sam's neck.”What's your thoughts on this? Us randomly meeting thing. Fate? Serendipity? Or somethin' fuckin' creepy?"

"Creepy?" Sam huffed out a laugh and squeezed Dean's leg. "I think it's kind of cool actually. And man," Sam shook his head and blew out a breath, "there are some things... in the world that are pretty far out there in terms of fate and stuff. I'm okay with thinking that this is... meant to be or something." He knew he was kind of sounding like an idiot. "You want another beer?"

"M good," Dean nodded and scratched at his head. "I get it though. The fate and stuff. There is... I don't know. Somethin' else." He shrugged and left it at that, shifting his hips slightly at the heat curling up in him before looking at Sam. "You gettin' another beer? Should I move my legs?"

"No," Sam said quickly, curling his fingers over Dean's denim clad leg. "So how long you staying in town this time... before your _work_ takes you away again." He hadn't missed the fact that Dean didn't seem to want to reveal what his occupation was. But... it was hard to tell what that said about someone these days. Hell, he could be a vacuum salesman who was too embarrassed to admit it.

Running his hand along the rough cotton of his shirt in attempt to itch his palm, Dean shrugged. "Don't have much in the way of plans for awhile. Holidays tend to be a bit of a slow time for me. I just go where I'm needed." He let his hand slid down and rest high up on his thigh, the free hand coming up to shift through his hair. "You? Got a local job around here for awhile?"

"I'm kind of in between gigs at the moment," Sam's last job, haunting, typical salt and burn in the last town back up the road had turned out quite well. The folks he'd been helping had given him a bit of extra cash when he left, it being Christmas and all. Sam's thumb brushed slowly over Dean's calf, he could feel the hard muscle there and dug his thumb in gently rubbing the muscle. "I was thinking I might stay here for two or three days, lay low through the holiday season." He let his other hand settle on the top of Dean's foot, against the rough cotton of his sock.

Smiling at Sam, Dean shifted his leg further across the man's lap. "Yeah. Not the wisest thing to travel over these coupla days anyway. Cause people? People can be crazy. Especially this time of year." The alcohol buzz magnified the feel of Sam's hand over his leg; pleasure swirled around his veins with the drag of the man's thumb. For a moment he considered why such a tiny touch affected him so much than he shoved the thought away. Being drunk on Christmas Eve with a not really that random guy was not the time to question emotional scars that possibly ran pretty deep.

Dean's leg was seriously close to creating a seriously embarrassing problem for Sam. It had been a _long_ time since Sam had touched anyone, well, other than to punch them. And now, here he was with this guy's leg riding remarkably close to the growing bulge in the front of Sam's jeans. "Y..Yeah, the holidays make everyone a little crazy I think." Sam's eyes were fixed on his hands, he was too nervous to look up at Dean's face; scared of what he might, or _might not_ see there. His fingers started to move against the arch of Dean's foot, working the tense muscles.

"Mm," Dean's eyes fluttered closed. He was definitely down with the idea of a foot massage. Sam was a good person to have around obviously. "Couple years back I made the mistake of going to see a movie on Christmas. Have you ever been to a theatre on a holiday? I swear my boots were caked with popcorn and soda for weeks after." He snorted slightly and readjusted his legs for a more comfortable position. "Feels good."

Sam's breath quickened a little. _What_ was he doing? "I... yeah, I just thought it was depressing," he glanced up at Dean, "you know," he wrinkled his nose, "poor lonely guy sittin' in the theatre by himself." He huffed out a small laugh and shifted under the weight of Dean's leg. _God_ , the man's denim clad leg was pressed right up against his crotch and it was getting really hard to concentrate on anything but the warmth and the weight of Dean's limb.

"Get that... I kinda feel that way whenever I go to a movie. Some are worth seeing though," he mused and one more shift of his leg and he could _feel_ the burn of Sam's heat against his calf. His eyes stayed closed and his facial expression didn't change though he did consider what to do with the information that Sam clearly wanted him. Could he chalk it up to one mostly drunken night of holiday blues? Seeking comfort in a random - not so random - stranger that wasn't really a stranger at all? Dean wanted to say he'd probably never see the guy again but things just weren't working out that way. He swallowed thickly and pursed his lips together slightly, keeping his leg resting against Sam's crotch and trying to sort through the alcohol buzz in his brain.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ah..." the sound slipped past Sam's lips before he could catch it. He coughed. _Jesus_. When he'd walked into Dean's Motel room he'd had no idea that he'd be sitting on the bed with the guy, let alone, faced with the warmth of his muscular leg pressed up against the hardness barely disguised by Sam's jeans. "So," Sam had no idea what to say but he really wanted to try and distract himself, "your plan is to be drunk over the holidays?" He huffed, fingers gripping Dean's leg tightly as his other hand still worked the man's foot. "I'm a cheap drunk." He gave Dean a crooked grin.

With a soft smirk Dean finally peeled his eyes open, tilting his head to the side to study Sam's expression. "Good to know," he said softly and let his leg press against the heat of the man. Just the slightest amount of friction to make it obvious what he was doing. His heart skipped a beat with the thrill of the action and he had to swallow a couple more times as he repeated to action a little more firm, confidence building.

Sam's breath puffed out his lips in a small gasp and his long fingers curled tighter on Dean's leg. He didn't have much experience with this kind of thing, but all of a sudden there were no mixed messages. Sam's heart was jack-rabbiting around in his chest and his stomach muscles tensed. He shifted his hips ever-so-slightly, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as the friction set off a wave of warmth that flooded over him.

Dean was certainly no stranger in seducing a person into bed, the only real difference between all those people and Sam was the parts. Hell, he already had him _on_ his bed. That was usually the hardest part. Shifting his body slightly, Dean angled himself to get a better view of Sam's features. There was a definite splash of coloring across his skin, it looked good on him. Once more his leg pressed down against his crotch, sliding along the hard line firmly. Dean caught his lower lip between his teeth and smirked softly.

"D..Dean...?" Sam's hand moved nervously to his hair, fingers running through it, _Jesus_ , his spine arched forward slightly as he sat up straighter. His lashes fluttered closed for a few moments. "You... uh... want another beer?" Sam hand settled back on Dean's leg and he opened his eyes to glance up at the other man.

Letting his hands come to rest on his thighs, Dean dragged his tongue across his lips and slowly pulled his legs back. "You asked me that Sammy, you itchin’ for another?" He practically growled the words, arousal making his voice much deeper than it usually was. Now that he had pulled his legs back, he was free to slide across the mattress, shifting so he sat inches from Sam, almost touching but not quite. "Am I makin' you nervous?" Dean leaned in slightly, tilting his head so he could release a small puff of air along Sam's neck.

The tone of Dean's voice shot straight down Sam's body and settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Now that Dean's legs were gone, Sam didn't know what to do with his hands so he slid them up and down his thighs a few times then curled his fingers slightly into the muscles. "A little," Sam said, letting his head fall to the side a little, almost able to imagine Dean's lips on his neck.

Dean hummed thoughtfully and allowed just the tip of his nose to brush against Sam's skin. His breath continued to ghost out between his lips as he shifted across Sam's neck, up to his jaw line. He could feel the heat burning off Sam's skin, could practically _hear_ his heart racing - though that may have been Dean's own blood in his ears. "Not gonna hurt you Sammy," Dean murmured, shifting forward slightly. He pulled his face back just enough to peer into Sam's eyes. Their lips were _so_ close Dean thought he might be able to touch them just by slipping his tongue forward a few inches.

Blinking slowly a few times, Sam heaved in a shaky breath. He smiled nervously, a slight curve to his lips, his skin was alive, thrumming with _maybe_ and _might_. Everywhere Dean's breath blew over his flesh, Sam felt heat and he was struggling to stay still. Struggling to not be the one to cave and grab Dean's shirt and tug him up against his body. It was so little, and so _hot_ Sam was fighting little shudders of lust as he sat there, weaving slightly.

It was worth the desire swirling impatiently through him to watch the play of lust and want on Sam's face. He'd never been one to tease, most things were just instant gratification for him, but Dean knew neither man was going anywhere any time soon so having some fun might make this 'one time only' even better. Raising his hand, Dean let his fingers fall against Sam's shirt front, trail down then weave their way back up. His thumb pressed down until he could feel the hard bud of Sam's nipple and he rubbed at it firmly for a few moments. Then his hand slid over once more and he worked his finger and thumb on the top button, freeing it from its hold then dropping down to the next. His eyes lifted once more to Sam's face as he worked the buttons. Leaning in, he let his lips hover centimeters from the corner of Sam's lips, "S'hot huh?" He breathed out.

Sam opened his mouth and couldn't actually make a sound for a few moments; his lips just moved slightly trying to form words that wouldn't come. Nodding jerkily, Sam's shaking hand moved slowly to settle on Dean's thigh, forming to the firm muscle beneath the man's jeans. "Hot," Sam finally managed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his body jolted when he barely brushed the flesh of Dean's bottom lip. Sam's head fell back immediately and he gasped in a breath; his hand grabbed tight onto Dean's leg. _Jesus_ , he'd never found barely touching someone _so_ hot.

The buttons on Sam's shirt were undone in the next moment and Dean had to take a moment to pull in a deep breath before he curled his fingers around the fabric and pushed it off the man's shoulders. When the cotton was dropping down, Dean released it in favor of bringing his hands back to Sam's chest, not touching, simply hovering over his flesh. He was nearly dizzy with the almost sensations and he wondered how long Sam would allow it to go on before he snapped. Dean knew if he was in the man's position he would have already snapped. Testing those limits, Dean's thumb once more slid across Sam's nipple, rolling the flesh. The expanse of Sam's neck was right there at eye sight and Dean couldn't resist leaning forward, letting his tongue part his lips and drag one line up the slightly salty skin.

Sam's hand whipped up and cradled the back of Dean's head pulling him closer. "Dean..." his voice was like a sigh, and he twisted toward the other man. Sam's free hand tugged at Dean's shirt, fingers too clumsy with lust to even manage the buttons. "Dean, I want..." Sam's voice broke off as he chased Dean's lips, growling out his frustration when the man pulled away. Giving up, Sam's hands slid down the material of Dean's shirt and slid under the hem drawing a sharp hiss of breath past Sam's lips when the pads of his fingers finally hit the heat of Dean's hot flesh.

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean breathed, letting his hands finally fall on Sam's burning chest, working the skin beneath his palms in slow circles. Huffing out a quick breath, Dean hooked his hands under Sam's arms and in one quick movement dragged the man up the length of the bed, pinning him down on the mattress with one firm hand on his chest. A slow smirk pulled his lips up as he stared down into Sam's fuzzy features. "Whatcha want?" He asked, tilting his head down to flick his tongue over Sam's nipple then suck the dusky area between his lips, sinking his teeth into the sensitive nub. The other hand was already barely whispering touches above Sam's waist band, fingers hooking under the fabric and tugging roughly.

Sam's moan was so much louder than he expected. His body stiffened as Dean manhandled his across the bed, his breath hitching. His hips shot up off the bed when Dean's teeth connected with his nipple; hands, suddenly frantic, tugged at Dean's shirt. "Dean... _fuck_." Sam was frustrated. He knew Dean was teasing, dragging out every touch, every motion. Sam was sure he would just come in his pants like a sixteen year old fumbling in the back seat of a car. Sam's fingers ghosted over Dean's back, then his blunt nails dug hard into the man’s shoulder blades, dragging them down his flesh. Sam had never wanted someone's mouth on his more and he twisted his spine - bare chest feeling the warmth of Dean's body, so close.

It was better than Dean could have imagined, driving someone so steadily insane, and Dean soaked in every little reaction from Sam, let it drive him forward. His fingers slid the button free of its confines, dragged the zipper down, and Dean couldn't help the smirk at the white flash of jersey boxers. Throwing his leg over Sam's, Dean straddled the man and let a hand rest on either side of Sam's body, head dipping down until his nose bumped against Sam's. "Want me to kiss you Sam?" He growled the words and rolled his hips down into Sam's, eyes flickering at the wash of pleasure through him. He let his tongue slip out and trace along the lower curve of Sam's lips, just along the edge.

"Y..Yes," Sam's chest was rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to control himself, _somehow_. Shoulders arching back he pushed up off the bed capturing Dean's tongue between his teeth and tugging gently until he pulled away. Sam's cheeks felt heavy, overheated, his blood was rushing in his ears and he tugged Dean down onto his chest. Keening softly into Dean's hair, Sam's hips snapped up against Dean's hard body. He was shuddering, hands scrabbling at the other man's back.

Dean could have continued to tease the man but he wanted to kiss him just as badly and his heart felt a little like it was just going to _stop_ if he didn't do something about the pulsing level of want coursing through him. So he dropped forward and crashed his lips into Sam's, mouth slanting over the man's already open, tongue thrusting forward. His body rocked against the man's as his tongue circled and spiraled, lapped at the taste of Sam's saliva and beer along the silky inside. Dean's hands slid down along every inch of chest he could reach, curling together before spreading out. A heavy moan rolled up his chest as his tongue danced across Sam's. Kissing him was more natural than he'd anticipated, and it felt better than anything he could ever remember feeling.

Dean tasted good, like beer, something sweet, his lips were soft and full and Sam's stomach twisted into knots as soon as the other man's tongue slid against his. His mouth fell open, granting Dean as much access as he wanted, rocking his hips up off the mattress. Lust ran through Sam's body - like nothing he'd ever experienced. Dean's body fit against his like a glove, like it was made to be there, right on top of Sam - his burning skin, the weight pressing Sam down into the soft mattress. A groan slid up through Sam's throat, thick and heavy and Dean swallowed it up - their lips crushing together harder.

There was no notion in his mind how long they had been kissing but when Dean pulled his lips back they were full and swollen, a little raw but not unpleasantly so. He almost instantly started his pursuit down, those swollen lips cascading along Sam's skin in rivers of bites and licks. Dean's fingers hooked under both the jeans and boxers, pulling up and dragging down. Sam's hard flesh was red, thick, and brushing up against his lower abs and Dean sucked in a breath, impossibly more turned on. It would be impossible for Sam to move much with his jeans still on so Dean shoved down the urge to curl his fingers around the hard shaft and instead continued sliding off the material, working quickly at Sam's boots until the man lay bare beneath him and his clothes hit the floor. Stopping only long enough to tug off his shirt - it was _so_ hot he was certain the windows had to be fogged up - Dean wet his still tingling lips and eyed Sam's cock, fingers coming out to trace softly along the sensitive skin.

Sam's body jack-knifed up off the bed, "Dean... what..." Shaking like a _fucking_ leaf; Sam shifted closer, fingers curling into the waistband of the other man's jeans. "Seems a... little unfair," Sam's voice was thick with lust, and he licked his lips as he tugged on the button and pulled the zipper down. He blinked a few times, staring into Dean's eyes - that liquid moss green. His shoulders sagged a little and he leaned forward to kiss the sensitive skin just below Dean's ear. Sam's cock was throbbing, aching and he wanted Dean naked, all that flesh and nothing else.

Dean wanted to be free of his clothing as much as Sam wanted him free of it so he helped the man by tugging his jeans down, sliding out of them and kicking them off the bed. He paused for a moment, biting his lip as he considered what came next. There definitely wasn't going to be all the way sex, Dean didn't even know how to go about doing that besides the general knowledge of slot A going into slot C but he wanted... more. Rolling back on top of Sam, Dean slid his body up and once more crushed his lips against Sam's, tongue thrusting forward as their cocks lined up and slid together. His body thrummed at the touch and he moaned loudly, repeating the action.

Sam shifted his legs apart just enough for Dean's body to settle against him, then hooked one leg over the other man's calf, pressing their hips together firmly. He groaned and sucked Dean's tongue deep into his mouth, long and hard and _Jesus_ it was good. He could feel the slick trails on his belly left by their cocks, the rigid shafts sliding and grinding together in the most intensely hot way. Tearing his lips away, Sam threw his head back against the mattress, hair covering his eyes, swollen wine-colored lips parted. Wordless sounds bubbled up from Sam's chest as his hands slid down Dean's back and settling over the curves of his ass.

Moan after moan fell from Dean’s lips as he continued to rock forward. Sam's body was like fire under him and Dean couldn't get enough of its burn across him. The steady build up, the alcohol clouding his mind - the length of time since the last time he'd been with someone - were all conspiring against him and Dean knew it wasn't going to be long before he was coming. His hand tucked under Sam's head, threading in that shaggy mess that he'd secretly been wanting to twine around his fingers since the first time he saw it - though he'd not known it then. Yanking his lips back, Dean panted heavily with each steady slip slide forward, forehead resting against Sam's. "Jesus Sammy," he breathed as he moved. " _So_ good."

Dean's scent was all around him and Sam's skin tingled and jumped like electricity was flowing between them. He turned his head to press into Dean's grasp on his hair. _Fuck_. He loved the way Dean just took what he wanted. Sam's moans deepened, his voice strained by _want_. He didn't even know what it was that he wanted except more of Dean's flesh, his hard muscles, and the slide of his cock against Sam's. Everywhere Dean’s hands moved Sam could feel his skin flush like his blood was trying to crawl out through his aching skin. He'd never felt anything like it. He rolled his hips hard, the friction on his swollen shaft almost sending him over the edge; his balls were swollen, heavy and full and it felt like he was ripping apart inside, piece by piece, thrust by thrust.

Somehow Dean managed to get his hand between their sliding bodies and he stretched his fingers wide to wrap around both himself and Sam. He pressed their flesh together, squeezed slightly, and moaned loudly. Dean could feel the weight of his orgasm settling over him and he crashed his lips against Sam's for another brutal kiss of sliding tongues and nipping teeth. The dizzying pleasure shot through his legs, up his system, and he came with hard thrusts into his hand, against Sam's skin. He sucked Sam's tongue into his mouth, pulling at it with each jet of white hot pleasure spraying across his and Sam's flesh.

The rough hand, Dean's cry and suddenly heat was balling up in the pit of Sam's stomach. His breath stuttered to a halt as his balls tightened, _Christ_. He cried out, chest jolting up as his hips rocked furiously up into Dean's grasp. His arms tightened around Dean's shoulders, pulling him down and that's when he felt his own release, hot and slick, pulsing between their bodies until he could barely move. Lungs aching for air, he broke the kiss and buried his face in Dean's shoulder as his body twitched and jolted. Sam's lips latched on to Dean's sweat slick flesh and he sucked and licked and moaned softly.

Dean let his weight rest completely on Sam as he panted softly, feeling the sticky wet of the combined come cooling along his stomach. His eyes were heavy and he was already exhausted from the mix of alcohol and the fantastic orgasm. Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself to the other side of the bed and kicked at the blanket until he could push it down and grab at it, pulling it over their bodies. Rolling on his side, he flipped off the lamp and slid against Sam's side, draping a hand over his chest. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to try and figure out if the sheer intensity of the things that had just passed between them meant something more than just a random one night stand. His brain was just too far gone to try and figure anything out. "Sleep here?" He mumbled into the darkness, head sliding across Sam's neck as he shifted to get more comfortable.

Sam pressed a soft kiss to Dean's head, breathing in the scent of his hair and committing it to memory. He waited there, fingers smoothing over Dean's hair, lips brushing across the man's hair. When Dean's breathing was slow, heavy and sleep-warm, Sam slipped carefully out from under him and moved about the room silently gathering up his clothes. Once he was dressed he leaned down over Dean's peaceful face and kissed the corner of his mouth. It took Sam twenty minutes to get showered, changed and packed into the car, he stared for a few moments at his own perfectly made bed and almost went back to Dean's room.

Sam was on the highway before his chest started to hurt a little; but, there was no way it wouldn't have been worse leaving Dean after a couple of days. Guys like Dean didn't end up settling for guys like Sam.

-=-=-=- January 2005 -=-=-=-

Sam pushed the door to Harvelle's Roadhouse open with his hip and strode into the dimly lit room. Blinking until he could see a bit better, he wandered over to the bar and sat on one of the stools smiling at the bartender's profile until she realized there were eyes on her.

"Samuel Colt... well, I thought you were dead son. You must have forgotten your way here in the last year." She smiled, and it wrinkled the corners of her dark brown eyes.

Chuckling, Sam leaned over the counter to plant a kiss on her cheek, "Ellen, I missed you. Can I get a beer now I'm actually legal?" Sam couldn't even remember the number of times he'd been busted by Ellen when trying to get another hunter to buy him a beer. Eventually, it had become a challenge - though Sam had never managed to slip one past her.

Laughing, Ellen turned about pulled a beer for him, sliding it across the bar, "absolutely, Sam." She wiped down the bar in front of her and leaned her elbows on it, "so, apart from growing into quite the... uh... man," she ran her eyes up across Sam's chest approvingly, "what you been doing?"

Sam smiled and took a sip of beer; it was cold and cleared the dryness out of his throat. "You know, hunting, driving, and staying out of trouble." He brushed his hair off his face and looked around the roadhouse, "you still get quite a crowd of hunters in here? I guess it's been over a year since I've been through this way." Sam had added another thing to his list of things to run away from since Christmas over a year ago and rarely stopped anywhere for more than a night now.

Ellen flipped her long brown hair back off her face, "yeah, you know, the usual riff-raff - haven't heard about anything exciting for you to look into if that's what you're fishin' for though. 'Scuse me, Sam." She moved across to the other side of the bar to get a drink for another customer.

Sam twisted his beer bottle on the bar, watching the wet trail it left as he moved it. Ellen was a good woman, closest thing Sam had to a friend he would have to say. At least, she was the one person in the world he could always find.

-=-=-=-

The moment the Roadhouse came into view Dean's shoulders tensed. It'd been half a year since he last came by and he wouldn't have been here now if it wasn't for the collection of relics he'd promised to bring to Ash if he managed to track them down. The man said he knew the best way to properly destroy them though so Dean wasn't faced with much of a choice. It'd be easy enough anyway; he'd drop off the things and be out there before Ellen could even offer him a beer.

Dean wasn't interested in conversations, in 'catching up' with people. He wanted the solitude of the road, the next hunt. It was what he knew and what he'd always have complete trust in, despite the less than pleasant moments.

Hefting the box up in his arms, Dean shouldered the door open, blinking in the change from sunlight to the bar's darkness. He didn't bother with a thorough scan of the patrons outside noting where they were. No one was to be trusted in a place like this and Dean would have to stay on his guard the entirety of his "visit." Clearing his throat, he dropped the box on the counter, peering down at it as he called, "Ellen, Ash around?"

It had been over a year since Sam had seen Dean, but even without looking he recognized his voice and was a little surprised that it still sent shivers down his spine. He turned on the stool, knowing Dean might not even have recognized him if he'd been preoccupied. He studied Dean's face for a few moments, a small smile curving his mouth. He was still really good looking, looked a little more tired if that were possible. And, he was in the Roadhouse which was a known check-in point for hunters. It must have been some sort of weird coincidence; after all, they'd had a few of those. He reached out and slid his long fingers over the sleeve of Dean's leather. "Dean... hi..."

Dean glanced over for just a moment then did a double take, stepping back at the almost physical blow that rained on him at the sight of... "Sam?" He breathed in disbelief. The man it seemed, had finished filling out, or was at least big enough now his arms were shapely under his coat. His hair was still long but he'd lost the bangs, instead it was tucked neatly behind his ears. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asked in shock, trying to shake off all those feelings he'd had when he'd woken up on that Christmas over a year ago to an empty bed, no note, no idea what he'd done wrong. But distinctly aware of how all those people must have felt when he left in the same fashion.

Sam's smile slowly grew and he looked down at his hand on Dean's arm pulling his fingers away. "I'm guessing you and I may have more in common than we originally thought." All the pieces were starting to fall into place, the motels, the hesitancy to discuss jobs, the perhaps not-so-random places they ran into each other. "You look great," he spoke softly, all too aware of the people around them.

"You're a hunter?" Dean arched an eyebrow and slowly shook his head. "Man I don't believe in fate but this thing..." he dropped down into the bar stool and scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck.”I should have known. Should have put the pieces together." He dropped his hand on the bar and forced his eyes up to look for Ellen. "Damnit where is that woman? I need a fuckin' drink."

Sam's brow furrowed. He'd imagined this meeting - although- less frequently as the months passed. He'd always hoped Dean might have missed him, in some way, wondered like Sam did about what _could_ have happened between them. Right now, Dean didn't even look pleased to see Sam. He swallowed and turned back to face the bar, a nagging sort of hurt in his chest. But wasn't this why he left?

Ellen took her time getting back over to their end of the bar and smirked at Dean's frustrated expression. "Wow - an impatient Winchester - that _never_ happens. The usual?" She was already reaching behind her for a beer. "You boys know each other?"

Glancing up at Ellen one side of Sam's mouth twitched up a little, "Yeah, we've run into each other a couple of times."

Ellen looked pointedly at Sam, then over at Dean who was rapidly downing his beer. "I don't even want to know," she muttered as she walked away.

"Send Ash this way," Dean hollered after her and lifted his beer once more, draining its contents before nearly slamming the bottle on the counter top. He considered Sam with a tilt of his head and frowned. "Gotta be honest, never thought I'd see you again."

"I hoped I would see _you_ again." The smile faded from Sam's face. "You... do you want me to just," he gestured to the door. If that's what Dean wanted Sam could be gone in a matter of moments even if that's not what he _wanted_ himself.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. "Really? Because that wasn't the impression I got when I woke up alone that morning," he said the words a little rougher than he'd been planning on. Especially now that he knew Sam was a hunter, it made a _lot_ more sense. Didn't change the fact that he'd spent the past year fucked up over the entire thing though. And really, Dean was more annoyed with himself than Sam but it was easier to take it out on someone else. He'd been beating himself up about for over a year now and it was really starting to wear thin. "Look don't worry about going. I just have to drop these off then I'm gone."

Sam bit down hard on his bottom lip, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "It's not like we were dating or anything," he tried to make light of the situation and forced a smile even as his gut was twisting painfully. "Stay..." he blurted out, "let me buy you another beer. We can catch up."

"Sam..." Dean sighed heavily and looked at him. "I think you made it pretty obvious you're not interested. I'm not..." he shook his head and leaned back in the seat. The real tricky issue was the fact that, more than anything, he wanted to stay. He _missed_ Sam which was... weird. And not all the surprising since the man had been a constant nagging thought on Dean's brain for the past year. "Alright. I'll stay for a beer." He gave in and glanced up to fix Ellen with his gaze.

Ellen swung past the boys and slid two more beers toward them. "Son of a bitch, all afternoon there's no one in here and suddenly it's fetch this, get that..." she was still muttering as she stalked off.

"I was interested," Sam murmured as he picked up his beer and took a long pull on the bottle.

"Obviously," Dean drawled out sarcastically and pulled from his beer. Staring down at the bottle, Dean shook his head and sighed. "I get it. Why you left. Especially now. But I'll tell you waking up alone when you weren't supposed to be, and hung over on the worst day of the year? Sucked ass." He forced a chuckle and wished his voice didn't sound so gruff and bitter.

Sam turned a little so his knee barely rested against Dean's. "I figured you'd just want me gone in the morning and... I didn't want that feeling. And..." he swallowed, knowing sometimes he said too much and freaked people out, "it felt... like it was... like I could get too caught up." Turning back he picked up his beer. All the times he'd thought about running into Dean again it had been so much easier. In his imagination Dean had always wanted to pick up where they left off. "And... then I wouldn't have wanted you... to... y'know..."

"To what?" Dean finally turned to face him, letting his eyes drag over the hardened lines of Sam's face. He'd certainly grown. Everything about him spoke of more confidence, like somewhere along the line he'd lost his gangly awkwardness and stepped into adulthood. It was the tall tale look of a hunter and Dean was a little surprised he'd never noticed the haunting look before. Too caught up in keeping his own secret he supposed. "You thought I'd just kick you out on your ass if we spent our equally miserable holidays together?"

Sam dragged a hand down his face, sometimes; there was just too much water under the bridge. "Stupid huh?" Sam shrugged and blew out a long breath. "Anyway... s'done I guess." Sam licked his lips, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, not wanting to look across at Dean. "You heading out right away?"

"I don't have-" Dean started but a noise at the door drew his attention and he jumped off the seat, heart racing as he slid back from Sam. "Dad," his forced his surprise down and fixed his eyes on the form of his father, not looking toward Sam though he was curious what expression he may have.

"Jesus Dean you look like I'm a fuckin' ghost. Sit down boy," his hand dropped on Dean's shoulder as he stepped passed him to drop in the seat. "Who's this?" He nodded at Sam, eyes curious as he reached out for Dean's beer and pulled from it. "You two know each other?"

"We uh... this is Sam," Dean slowly slid forward and dropped into the vacant seat between his father and Sam. "We've met a few times. He's a hunter like us." He played the hunter card quickly, hoping his dad might go easy on Sam. He knew he could be quite the force to reckon with.

"Hey there, John Winchester," John leaned forward and offered his hand to Sam.

"Hello Sir," Sam extended his hand and shook John's firm hand. Funny, they looked alike, but Dean's features were softer - maybe he was more like his mother. "How are you doing?"

"Good. Good, just gonna enjoy myself a beer with my son here. You should stay. Don't think I've ever met any of Dean's friends," John eyed him slightly and looked. "Ellen! How long you gonna keep a thirsty man waitin'?" He chuckled when the woman turned a death glare to him. "She doesn't like me much," he informed them.

Dean sat with stiff shoulders. He'd never thought his dad would show up _here_ , not with all the history between him and the Harvelle family. But then, his dad was always doing things that surprised him. When Ellen came their way Dean took the moment to lean over to Sam and whisper out the side of his mouth, "You should go. Get out now while you still can."

Blinking, Sam opened his mouth to speak and was cut off abruptly when Ellen slammed her hand down on the bar.

"You've got a lot of balls showing up here John." Her eyes were sharp, her face drawn.

Sam shifted to get up.

Ellen whipped her head toward him, " _You_ sit your pretty ass down and finish your beer, Sam. This ain't nothin' to do with you."

Nodding meekly, Sam sat back down and inched his stool away from the Winchesters. _Winchester_. He liked that.

"Ellen," John's voice was soft and he looked up at Ellen with a look Dean knew as his dad's best meek and apologetic look. Dean could see right through it and he gathered Ellen could as well. "I'm just here for a minute. Need to consult with my boy here then I'll be out of your hair." He pulled at the box still sitting on the counter in front of Dean and turned from Ellen. "Dean, is the amulet in there?"

"Yes sir," Dean answered automatically and reached in the box before his dad had to, pulling out the amulet in question and handing it to the man. His eyes lifted to Ellen and he mouthed a quick 'sorry'. "Ellen, think you could take the rest of these to Ash? He'll know what to do with them." For a moment Dean spared a look at Sam, wondering what the man was making of the whole situation. Then the low whistle of appreciation from his father had his gaze shifting. "It was exactly where you said it would be."

"This is a good thing. Good job Dean," John smiled at him and slanted his eyes at Ellen who was still standing there glowering at him. "Don't suppose you'd let me buy my son and his friend here a beer?"

Ellen turned quickly and put two more beers on the counter, glancing at John quickly then moving away.

Sam cleared his throat and leaned forward, peering past Dean. "Thank you, Sir." Dean looked pretty pale and more than a little tense. Sam really wanted to reach out and squeeze his arms, but of all the places _not_ to do that... this was probably at the top of the list.

"You're welcome," John nodded and pulled at the other beer Ellen had set down, sliding Dean's half finished one back to him. "So... Sam. Sam what? You been doing this long? You don't look a day over twenty."

Sam brushed his hair off his face, "Samuel Colt, Sir. I'm twenty-two. Been hunting since I was sixteen give or take. Still got a fair amount to learn but I do what I can." Sam smiled and looked down at Dean's hands. The man's knuckles were a little white. "Met Dean a long time back... what?" He tried to involve Dean in the conversation, "three years ago, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded and swirled the liquid in the beer bottle, eyes fixed on it. He didn't know what Sam's last name was and he was glad Sam had informed him before his dad could question him on it.

"Three years huh?" John tipped back the beer bottle and looked between them. "Did you meet on a hunt?"

"No sir," Dean shook his head and glanced up at Sam. There was no use lying to his dad, the man could read through most of his lies and Dean could never make the ones that really mattered fly. Especially if it was regarding Sam because the man had fixed a place in his mind that Dean couldn't ignore. "It was just a random thing."

John looked between them with curious eyes before fixing his gaze on Sam once more. "You been hunting by yourself since you were sixteen?"

"Yes Sir, not always very successfully mind you. Got my ass handed to me a few times." Sam chuckled softly and scratched his nose. _Holy shit_. He was sweating. It was like meeting his prom date’s Dad or something. _Not_ that Sam had gone to a prom but still. "You and Dean hunt together much?" Sam's eyes darted over to Dean's face.

"Dean's fully capable of hunting on his own. Has been since about sixteen as well I suppose, ain't that right Dean?" John rested a hand on his shoulder.

Dean was a little miserable about this whole thing. He felt bad for Sam; no one should have to be subjected to his father like this because the man knew how to ask questions in such a way that you had no choice but to answer. "Yes sir," He nodded.

With a warm laugh John leaned in again, "Dean here likes to be modest. He's a damn fine hunter. I'm sure you could learn a lot from him if you ever needed it." He leaned back for a moment, finishing his beer as his eyes lifted. "Well I better get out of here before Ellen puts a few rounds through my head with her glare alone. It was nice meeting you Sam. Dean? Come outside with me, got a hunt for you to check out." John stood and brushed his hands down his front.

"You too, Sir. Dean? You coming back in or are you taking off?" He tried to make it sound casual - but - _hell_ it wasn't. With every nerve fiber, Sam wanted Dean to come back in, come back and talk to him.

"Oh I-" Dean turned to him, already pushing from the stool but his dad's hand on his shoulder had him snapping his jaw shut.

"'Fraid Dean's gotta hit the road on this one but I'm sure he can call you," he nodded at Sam before turning Dean with tightened fingers.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam with sad eyes before fixing his gaze forward and stepping outside with his dad at his side.

Sam had been sitting at the bar about five minutes when he leaped up and bolted to the door. He was _so_ stupid. Flinging the heavy wooden door open he blinked in the sunlight looking around for something that resembled the car that Dean had described to him. There was nothing, and there just weren't that many cars there. He didn't even have a number for Dean, nothing, just a name and a painful ache in his chest that was going to take a whole lot of beer to fix.

-=-=-=- August 2005 -=-=-=-

The hard surface connecting with his back knocked the air from his lungs so quickly Dean's eyes widened in shock. Definitely hadn’t been what he'd thought was going to happen when he'd kicked in the door, shotgun ready. It should have been a pretty easy thing; the creature had seemed like a fairly easy kill. Only Dean had thought it was just some average run of the mill monster. Turned out it wasn't and Dean didn't figure out what it really was until the first time he'd been sent flying across the room and landed in a puddle of slime that used to be skin.

"So what?" He gasped as he pushed himself up and swiped at blood on his lip. "You're some fucked up shape shifter who gets its rocks off by changing into monsters?" Dean shook his head, one hand on his thigh. "I'm tellin' you dude, that's a whole new level of fucked up." And as fate would have it, Dean didn't have anything silver on him besides his ring and a hell of a lot of good that would do him.

Which was how he was now being sent across the room by a large foot in his chest. His vision blurred at the edges as he connected with the wall. For a moment he had a distinct thought that this was it. The end. Dean was going to get killed by a shape shifter who liked to pretend to be a monster just to scare little kids. Dean choked on blood, curling in on himself and coughing loudly. He was only vaguely aware of the door being forced opened.

Sam's foot connected solidly with the door and it slammed back into the wall as it flew open. He was fast and strong and he was across the room in less than two seconds arm raised and slamming his sliver blade straight down into the chest of the shape shifter. He'd only put it all together at the last minute, leaving the last murder scene he'd stepped in something, well, gross and all the lore came flooding back to him. He shuddered a little as the thing kind of fell apart in front of him and hopped back out of the way quickly. He hated those things. Glancing around the room he noticed another body lying against the far wall. "Shit."

Moving quickly Sam slid to his knees beside the body and slid his arm under the guy to roll him over slightly, "Jesus Christ, Dean?" There was a lot of blood in the man's mouth and on his face but Sam couldn't see where it was coming from. He slid his hand gently under Dean's neck and held it steady while he leaned over and ran his hand along Dean's neck and spine. "Dean? Can you hear me?" Sam was no Doctor but nothing was sticking out where it shouldn't be.

"Sammy?" Dean blinked up at the man, rapidly attempting to clear his vision. He groaned slightly and pushed himself up, spitting into his palm. "Fuck. Did you kill that thing? Fuckin' shape shifter. I think he... whoa..." Dean fell back into Sam's side as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "Shit. Ow." His chest ached, his mouth ached and he wondered if he'd lost a tooth or something.

"Okay, just settle down a minute," Sam shifted so he was sitting against the wall with one knee up and pulled Dean closer so he was propped up against his chest. "Where you hurtin'?" Sam's hand pushed Dean's jacket back slowly running a h and over his t-shirt to check his ribs and chest for wounds.

"Chest. Got a foot to my ribs," Dean winced slightly. "Mouth too. Head." Dean blinked a few times and looked up at Sam. "Just need to lie down. I'mma be fine." He swallowed and flinched at the overwhelming taste of blood down his throat.

Sam considered arguing with him then decided it probably wasn't the best timing. "You got all your gear with you? Did you drive here?"

"S'in my car," Dean's eyes were already sliding closed and he curled slightly into Sam. "In back. Can you... drive her? Did you drive?" He fought off the sudden curl of exhaustion and struggled to push himself up.

"Okay, don't worry, we'll take your car but you gotta listen to me. Just relax man, you're hurt and I'm gonna do the worrying alright?" Sam smiled. "I'm gonna get you up and into your car - then I'm gonna drive you to my motel and get you settled. Then I'll come back here and clean up, get my car. Okay?" Sam slipped out from under Dean and slid his arms around his chest. "Gonna try and stand you up okay? You just lean back against me." Sam stood slowly, trying not to put too much pressure on Dean's chest.

Dean sucked in a sharp hiss as they stood, pain ricocheted down his body. Sam's words registered vaguely with him and he let his head hang down. "S'okay," he mumbled, leaning heavily against Sam. "Damn thing. Can really pack a.... punch..." he forced a chuckle and looked at Sam. "How'd ya know?’Bout the... shape... shifter thing?"

Sam widened his stance so he could take most of Dean's weight easily, one arm still under Dean's arms. The fingers of his free hand slipped up to cup the back of the other man's neck. "Stepped in that gross sticky shit on my way out of the Stinson place." Dean looked exhausted and Sam could see the sweat beading on his forehead, he was probably in far more pain than he was willing to admit. "Can we try walking, you get hold of me however it's gonna help most."

"Sure," Dean forced himself to move even though every step hurt. He'd never broken a rib before but he was fairly certain he had now, maybe even two. He'd have to ask Sam if he knew anything about that. He focused on breathing as they moved, arm wrapped securely around Sam's waist.

Sam got them to Dean's car as quickly as possible, got the keys from Dean and unlocked the back door. He won the battle about where Dean was going to ride by accident, Dean had stumbled and the pain was so bad he nearly blacked out. Sam just raised an eyebrow and Dean quit arguing. Once he had Dean settled on the back seat Sam jogged back inside and picked up everything that belonged to them.

The drive back to Sam's motel felt like it took forever, he stopped once at an all night pharmacy to pick up some pain pills and advice. It was going to be interesting trying to get Dean to sit still for seventy-two hours. Dean was asleep when they arrived at the motel so Sam moved everything inside and pulled back the sheets on the bed and set up the pillows then went back out to get Dean.

"Come on, Dean." He rubbed the man's cheek softly, "one more walk Dean then you can rest, okay?"

Dean groaned in pain as he tried to help Sam get him out of the backseat. "Think my ribs are busted," he grumbled and tried to lift his arms but even that seemed to sting. His breath was shaky and his eyelids were heavy.

Sam half carried Dean into the room and kicked the door shut behind them. He sat Dean on the side of the bed and slid his jacket off gently. "Dude, should I just cut your shirt off? It's gonna hurt like a sonovabitch if you try to lift your arms." Sam winced just thinking about it.

"Not attached to this shirt," Dean mumbled. Sam could fuckin' cut off everything he wore at this point, even if it was his favorite shirt. There was no way he was going to try and move his arms. By now it was hard to even keep his body up. "Needa lay down," he breathed, forcing his eyes up to Sam.

Sam's fingers hesitated then he pulled out his knife and cut the shirt off Dean quickly, pulling it away in tatters. Stowing his knife he fumbled with the button on Dean's pants, pulled the zipper down and pushed them open. "Need you up for a second." He stood still helping Dean to stand so Sam could shoved the jeans down far enough for Dean to step out of them. He reached over the fluffed up the pillows slightly, "guy at the drug store said you'll breathe easier slightly elevated." He held Dean's arm and helped him settle back against the pillows. "Okay? Better?"

"Little," Dean let out the word as a breath and curled his hand around Sam's arm. "Sammy?" He whispered, letting his head roll on the pillow toward him. "Can I have some water?"

"Sure," Sam pulled the quilt up over Dean and moved through the room quickly fetching a bottle of water from the fridge. He undid the top and held it out to Dean, "Need me to help?"

Dean tried to push himself up to get a better angle for the water. It sent a sharp stab of pain through him and he groaned as he collapsed once more. "Yeah..." he opened his mouth for the water and let it cool his mouth. It tasted much better than his own blood that's for certain. "Thank you," he breathed, eyes fixing on Sam. "For..." he shrugged and flinched.

"No problem, you'd do the same." Sam reached out almost touching Dean's cheek then changed his mind at the last moment and settled his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'm gonna run get my car; I'll be back soon - rest." He pushed up off the bed and walked over to the door. "I"ll lock you in - so sleep - I'll be back." He slipped out the door and locked it behind him.

The mattress wasn't nearly as soft as he thought it should be and that probably had something to do with the sheer amount of pain constantly curling through him. It was enough to make his stomach churn unpleasantly and Dean vaguely wondered if he'd be strong enough to roll on his side so as not to choke on his own vomit. He didn't even have the mental strength to ponder at the sheer luck it was to have been found by Sam. Under the intense pain, there was the faintest swell of warmth and something Dean's exhausted brain couldn't begin to name. Trying to shut off everything, Dean let go of his last restraints and fell into sleep.

It took less than half an hour for Sam to hop a cab most of the way to his car and bring it back to the motel. He opened the door quietly and was pleased to see that Dean was sleeping. He locked up and shrugged his jacket off, moving over to the bed to rest his hand against Dean's forehead. There was a slight frown on his face and Sam thought he was probably in pain. Opening the bag from the drug store quietly, he pulled out some pain medication and put two pills on the bedside table next to the bottle of water. The pharmacist had told him to ice the broken ribs so he had brought some to the room with him when he came in. Slipping into the bathroom he grabbed one of the towels and wrapped some ice in it.

Toeing of his boots he sat down on the edge of the bed again and tugged the quilt down gently. He hissed quietly when he saw the dark bruise already blossoming out from the centre of Dean's chest. As gently as he could, Sam rested the ice against the bruise, yawning and shaking his head.

Dean was dreaming though it was only in vague shapes and blurs and everything was underlined with a current of pain. "Mmrph," he mumbled as something cold coursed through him. Eyes flickering open, Dean's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Sam?" He breathed, mind struggling to catch up with itself.

"Yeah, it's me, s'okay just relax." Sam slipped his free hand up to slide around Dean's neck and rub gently. "I'm just icing your ribs - will stop the bleeding and swelling. You need some pain meds?"

"Fuck yes," Dean opened his mouth, hand coming to rest on the nearest part of Sam's skin. He had the strangest sense of safety. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Sam was a hunter too. Or that he knew Sam for years now, however vague it might be, but they knew things about each other that loads of other people didn't know. And Dean... Dean _liked_ Sam, he knew the man would take care of him though he hated the idea of being incapable of a simple thing like sitting up.

"Okay," smiling slightly Sam pulled the ice pack away and put it down on the bed. He picked up the pills and the water bottle, "here," he didn't ask this time, just popped the pills into Dean's mouth then held the water bottle up to the man's lips.

Drinking deeply, Dean swallowed the pills and only slightly choked on the excess water. Rolling his head to the side he coughed loudly and groaned, pulling in on himself. " _Fuck_ ," he growled. This was going to suck he could already tell and he wondered how long it was going to hurt so badly, wondered when the pain medicine would kick in. "Get your car?" He shifted back on the pillow and let his eyes drift closed.

"Yup, s'all good, don't worry." Sam picked up the ice pack again and pressed it gently to Dean's chest, "the pills will work in a few minutes and you'll be able to sleep. I won't go anywhere you can wake me if you need anything." Reaching up Sam smoothed Dean's hair back from his forehead.

"S'good to see you," Dean mumbled sleepily, pulling his eyes open to gaze at Sam. "You cut your hair some huh?" It hurt to chuckle softly and Dean winced.

"I did," he rubbed his thumb across Dean's cheek, "be right back." Sam pushed up off the bed and went into the bathroom to dump the already melting ice. Running the hot tap he soaked a face cloth and went back to sit beside Dean. Suddenly a little nervous he gestured at Dean's face with the washcloth as he sat, "there's blood... can I?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded and shifted back, closing his eyes and taking a small, quick breath.

Sam ran the cloth softly over Dean's face, cleaning up the blood and wiping away the dirt from the wall he'd crashed into. He moved the cloth down the length of Dean's neck and across his shoulder. When he was satisfied the rest could wait for when Dean could shower he put the cloth down on the bedside table. "Okay, there." Sam tugged the quilt up to Dean's shoulders, "you rest."

"Yeah..." he grumbled and sighed softly. It sucked to feel helpless and in so much pain but it didn't suck to have Sam there. Dean would take what he could get.

Sam watched Dean's face as the man drifted off to sleep. His freckles stood out more than usual because his face was so pale. But - the medication must be working a little because the frown on Dean's face was fading. Sam pushed up and walked around the bed grabbing his jacket. He sat down carefully on the opposite side of the bed and brought his feet up on the bed. Balling up his jacket he stuck it under his head and stared up at Dean. He smiled as Dean's lips puffed out as he let out a particularly deep sigh. Sliding a little closer but careful not to jolt Dean's body, Sam closed his eyes and crossed his arms to keep himself a little warmer. He was asleep within minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was dark when Dean blinked his eyes opened and he frowned, waiting until his memory could catch up with him. The pain came back first and he groaned softly. Then the knowledge that Sam was nearby had him pushing up through the pain and looking around. Sam, as it turned out, was lying beside him on top of the quilt. His body was shaking slightly and Dean frowned. If he were his usual self he'd just drag the man up and tuck him under the blankets but it hurt just to bend forward so he reached out instead and curled his hand around the man, shaking him slightly. "Sam? Wake up," he whispered, voice laced tight with the effort it took.

Sam's eyes shot open. "What? You okay? You need something?" Sam rubbed his arms, "s'cold in here…" He rubbed a hand down his face, "you need more blankets..." he yawned, "I can get some if you want."

Huffing on a laugh, Dean fell back into the pillow and pulled the blanket around him. "Just wanted you to get under the blankets. Fuckin' crazy to freeze to death on my behalf." He reached out and yanked down the blankets on the free side of him. "C'mon. Get comfy."

Not even hesitating Sam rolled to the side so he could get under the covers. _Christ_ he was cold. He shifted over to he could feel Dean's warmth. "You feeling okay?" He shivered slightly then relaxed a little, "stupid question I guess. Don't suppose," he yawned again, "I could persuade you to go to a clinic."

"Not happenin," Dean shook his head and stopped quickly when it only made him dizzy. He rolled slightly so his body could be closer to Sam's. The man was really cold but the cold felt good on his ailing body so he soaked it in. "I'll sleep better just knowin' that piece of shit is dead."

"Oh, it was dead all right. Hate those things." Sam shifted, settling his arms along Dean's side. He was warm and Sam liked the comfort of knowing he was there. "Go back to sleep," he murmured.

"Good," Dean nodded gently and let his eyes drift closed. Sam was starting to warm up beside him and a slight smile tugged at Dean's lips. "Good."

-=-=-=-

Sam blinked his eyes open and had some trouble figuring out what was going on for a few minutes. Dean was still sleeping and Sam propped himself up on his elbow to stare at the man's face for a while. His skin was at least pinking up a little now that he'd had some rest. Hell, he was probably in shock the night before. Sam rolled away and stood up stretching. He needed a shower.

The day was kind of a blur. Dean only woke a few times and Sam made sure he had what he needed; medication, water, food when he would eat. Sam didn't stray very far although he did step outside a few times run out to get them food. Dean's pain was pretty consistent for the first day. Sam tried to keep him propped up so his breathing was less labored. By the time evening rolled around, Sam was exhausted again, probably just the whole mess catching up with him. This time, he didn't wait for Dean to ask and slipped out of his jeans and crawled into the bed to lie beside Dean while he was sleeping.

Each time Dean woke the pain resurfaced almost immediately. But it was accompanied with the secure knowledge that someone was there looking out for him. That _Sam_ was there. He wanted to talk to Sam - hell, he wanted to _kiss_ him - but everything else was still too much to handle. So he mostly dosed and when he woke for what felt like the hundredth time, it was night. Sam was passed out next time him and Dean shifted slightly closer, taking in the offered comfort.

He slept the rest of the night through and when his eyes finally opened in the morning things were just a little less intense. It still hurt like a bitch but it was at least more bearable. Enough so that he became aware of the distinct need to shower. Dean was fairly certain there was still shape shifter goo on him and that was enough to get him slowly climbing out of bed. Sam wasn't there but Dean figured he just went out to get something to eat, since all his things were still around. So he hobbled his way to the shower and stood under the hot spray for a good ten minutes, just letting it run over him as he leaned against the tiled wall.

When he came out, towel wrapped low around his waist, Sam was there at the table, cartons of food in front of him. A small smile tilted up his lips and he cleared his throat. "I'm feeling much more human. Though I could go for more of that pain medicine." He looked around for his duffel, glad that he'd been planning on hitting the road after the creature had been killed and he'd already had his stuff in the car.

Sam slid off his chair and padded over to the bedside table and picked up the bottle of pills. Walking back over to Dean, eyes slipping from Dean's face to his damp chest - Sam held out the bottle. "I'll get your bag for you." Sam snagged the bag up off the floor and tossed it up on the bottom of the bed so it was easier for Dean to reach. He sat back down on his chair and started opening the boxes of food. He was trying _exceptionally_ hard not to look behind him and let his eyes move along the curves of Dean's body. Even battered and bruised, he certainly wasn't hard on the eyes. Sam grinned, "I got Chinese. You hungry? Feel like sitting at the table to eat?"

"Yeah, being awake for awhile sounds like a fantastic idea," Dean considered the clothes in his hand, looking over at Sam. But well, the guy had already seen him naked so it didn't matter that much. He pulled off the towel, back to Sam and stepped into his boxers followed up by a pair of sweats. He didn't bother with the shirt. It would still hurt _way_ too much to try and lift his arms enough to put it on. Heading over to the table, Dean sat gingerly and pulled the nearest carton toward him. "So you been trackin' this thing long? I caught wind of it after its third kill."

"Probably about the same time, I saw the news stories on my laptop and headed out here 'cause I had nothing better to do." Sam was having a _great_ deal of trouble keeping his eyes off Dean's chest; each time he reached for some more food his muscles twitched and jumped. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Sam looked down at his plate and pushed his food around a little. "Dean... you know the day at the roadhouse, I came out to give you my phone number - so we could - stay in touch but you were gone." He had no idea why he suddenly felt the need to blurt that out, maybe because he didn't want to risk the same thing happening again. Sam wasn't even sure if Dean knew yet, understood, that Sam still wanted to be around him, near him, even if it was just as friends.

Nodding softly, Dean took a few more bites before answering. "Yeah my Dad gets like that you know? Real passionate about something all of a sudden. Plus he's been on this crazy rampage for the thing that killed my mom ever since it happened. So if something might lead to that... well it's just up and go. I wanted to go back and..." Dean sighed and shrugged. He'd wanted to go back and apologize for being cold, go back and tell Sam that maybe they should stay in touch by choice this time and not leave it up to fate or whatever. "Well I didn't have much of an option, since he was following me out. He just... does things you know? Screw the consequences. That's why Ellen hates him. Why a lot of people hate him really," he forced a chuckle then blinked, looking up at Sam. "Wow. You really should stop me when I start going off like that."

Shrugging, Sam smiled. "I like it. You're always telling me how you don't like to talk and then... here I am listening again," he teased. He thought back over Dean's words for a few moments as he bit into an eggroll. "You... didn't finish. You wanted to come back to the roadhouse and what?" Sam's head tilted slightly and he watched the emotions flit across the other hunter's face.

With a soft sigh Dean pushed his food back and shifted in his chair, wincing slightly. "I don't know... I guess... maybe to get your number. Maybe to just sit and relax for awhile ‘cause it's so damn easy to talk to you and it's not like that with anyone else." He shrugged slightly and reached for a bottle of water. He wanted a beer but wasn't dumb enough to mix it with whatever pain killers Sam had given him. "You know how it is. Life on the road, wears on you. I guess I never realized how... miserable it was. Until I realized what being semi normal with a person was like." He chuckled humorlessly and drank from the water. "Am I making sense? Or have the pain killers diluted my brain?"

Sam chuckled, "it's the pain killers, but don't worry, I understood." Sam stood up, "not as hungry as I thought." His stomach was all over the place. One minute he was feeling nauseous the next hungry - it seemed to kind of depend on how much he looked at Dean, or how hopeful he was feeling. He leaned on the back of his chair and glanced down at Dean's chest. "That's quite a bruise there." He moved over to kneel down beside Dean, "lemme see."

Leaning back slightly, Dean winced as he looked down at himself. He'd avoided the mirror but now the purplish bruise was impossible to miss. "Almost wish the fucker wasn't dead so I could kill him for doin' this to me," he chuckled softly and lifted his head to peer into Sam's features. It had been seven months since Dean had seen him last and he had filled out even more. Now the lithe youth from their first encounter was nearly impossible to see. All strong muscles and defined curves. Dean swallowed, not that surprised at the heat that coiled low in his belly as he studied the man.

Sam reached out and ran his fingers over the bruise. "You probably cracked the bottom rib, maybe two, but obviously they didn't do any damage to anything important or we'd know by now." Flattening his palm gently against Dean's chest he ran his hand across and down over the uninjured ribs then across Dean's abs. Lips pressed together to hide a smile he let his hair fall forward, "feels good to me." He stood and walked back over to the window. "You got somewhere you need to be or are you staying here for a few days?"

Dean pulled in a quick breath and blinked a few times before shifting his gaze to Sam by the window. "I'm in no shape to try driving anywhere. So I'll probably hole up here for a bit. Can give you the money for the room." He frowned slightly and tried to calm the heat still bubbling through him after Sam's far too brief touch. "You headin' out soon?"

"No, I'll stick around till you take off. I was just thinking maybe I should go down to the office and get another room." Not that he wanted to _be_ in another room, but, he still didn't know where things stood between them. "I'm sure they have a room that's close so I can still help out when you need me." He didn't look back over at Dean, just waited quietly for him to agree.

With a faint frown Dean made his voice sound as casual as possible. "Cheaper for us both to share. I mean, no point in us both paying for rooms when... well... I don't mind, you know. Sharing. Unless you want your own room. I get that. Used to the privacy and all," Dean was fairly certain he was sounding pretty idiotic but at least he could blame it on the meds.

"Okay," Sam's shoulders dropped a little, "cheaper, yeah." Not quite the answer he was looking for but at least he would get to spend some more time with Dean before they parted ways again. "You wanna try going for a walk today - something like that?" He turned back to face Dean and walked over to sit on the bottom of the bed. "The dude at the drug store said you should be sure to breathe deeply, get some exercise as soon as you could."

"Alright," Dean nodded and glanced down at himself. "Probably not without a shirt huh? Wanna help me get one on? Or actually... I think my button down might be clean..." He frowned and headed for his duffel bag once more. Giving the shirt a curious sniff he decided it was clean enough and tugged it on, flinching slightly as he stretched his arms back. He slipped out of his sweats and into jeans next then sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, pulling in a deep breath. "Damn this sucks. I hate feelin' so..." he shrugged and began work on the buttons.

Walking over, Sam pushed Dean's hands away and finished buttoning the shirt for him. "You can ask for help, you know." Once all the buttons were done, Sam smoothed his hands across Dean's shirt, blushed and stepped back. Without asking he walked back to the door and got Dean's boots returning to Dean quickly. Kneeling once more he held the boot out near Dean's foot, waited till he stepped into it then did the same with the other. Pushing up he leaned over to grab his jacket. "Ready? Oh," he paused, "you think you'll be warm enough without a jacket or you wanna try and get one on?"

"Try and get it on," Dean didn't really like going out without his jacket, though it seemed like a strange type of security blanket or something. He just felt kind of naked without it. Sam brought the coat over to him and he managed to only slightly wince as he slid one arm at a time into it. Once they'd stepped outside, he tucked his hands in his pockets and waited by the door as Sam locked up. "You know, I'm not really used to that. The asking for help thing." He said softly, glancing at Sam then shifting his eyes to their surroundings.

Sam let his hand settle on Dean's arm for a few moments then smiled, "come on, there's a park that's not too far down the street, we can go there." He jammed his hands in his pockets and started walking. "When I was a kid I remember my folks taking me to the park all the time. I used to collect those... what the hell are they called, horse chestnuts. I don't know what I thought I was going to do with them but I always came back with my pockets full of them." He looked off in the distance for a few moments then scratched the back of his neck. "I wonder what my Mom did with them all."

"So what did it?" Dean asked, glanced over at Sam as they walked, going on when Sam gave him a confused look. "Something killed your parents. It's why you hunt right? I know how it works... so... what did it?"

"I... there..." Sam's lips moved soundlessly for a moment and he ran his hand through his hair, "just... something harmless really. It was a haunting; ghost of a kid... but the things was it was suddenly standing on the road in front of their car. Dad... swerved and it was icy." Sam shrugged the rest of the story away, unwilling to put it into words. Speaking it out-loud made it all too real.

Nodding, Dean let it drop. He knew it couldn't be something easy to talk about, was actually a little surprised Sam gave him anything to go on. Ask any other hunter and he'd probably gotten a swift punch in the jaw. "So do you like this life? I mean, think you'll stick with it? Now that you've lived it for awhile?"

"It's lonely." Sam didn't really need to say much else because he knew that Dean would know what he meant. There was no room in the life of a hunter for people. Looking up, he saw the gates for the park, "there it is." He nodded at the gate. "You still doing okay?"

There was a faint echo of pain with each step but Dean nodded and pulled in a deep breath. He stopped the persistent flow of questions, feeling a little too much like his dad. It was just in his nature he supposed, to want to know everything. His eyes traveled across the park, taking in the various people milling about. Everyone looked so average and he wished he could pretend that he and Sam were just two average guys, friends or lovers, whatever, taking an afternoon stroll in the park. It was too much for his imagination, he couldn't quite stretch it that far and Dean dropped his gaze to watch his feet move in sync with Sam's steps.

Sam wasn't stupid; he could see the slight twitch of a muscle in Dean's jaw. He knew that he was still in a bit of pain, but the exercise was good for his lungs. The last thing that Dean needed was to get pneumonia. "Let's sit over here," he gestured to a bench, "just for a bit then we'll walk back to the motel." Changing direction Sam walked over and sat down, legs sprawling out in front of him.

Dean lowered himself slowly on the bench and stretched out his own legs, pulling his hands from his pockets when it bent his arms in a way that made his chest ache. "I don't think I've gone for a walk in a park in... ever." He chuckled softly, lifting his eyes once more to watch a young couple push a little girl on a swing in the playground not too far from them.

Sam smiled, "well, it was either this or the red light district in the other direction. I didn't leave the room much but where I did go - not the best neighborhood for a walk. Especially not if you've got broken ribs." He bumped his shoulder against Dean's, "not sure you'd be much good for backing me in a fight right now." Tilting his head, he looked sideways at Dean's profile. _God_ , his lashes were long.

"No, I'd try my damndest though," Dean offered with a slight smile and yawned a moment later. That turned out to hurt more than he expected and he flinched. Rolling his shoulders slightly, Dean glanced over at Sam. He wondered what it would be like to tuck in against his side, to have Sam's arm over his shoulder. Then he shook off the thoughts because they were far too sentimental and Dean never did relationships before. Why would he do them now? And it wasn't like Sam would be interested anyway. Wasn't the hunter thing. "Should we head back?"

"Sure," Sam stood, then held out his hand for Dean, "need a hand?"

Dean didn't really need a hand; he was fairly certain he could do it by himself, but he reached out and laid his palm across Sam's anyway, using the man's strength to pull himself up off the bench. He pulled in several deep breaths before taking a step forward. For whatever the reason he didn't release Sam's hand, just loosened his grip enough that the man would know he could pull away at any moment.

Sam pulled his hand back slowly and tucked it back in his pocket and headed back to the hotel. Dean was a little slower on the way back, Sam knew Dean's ribs were hurting so he slowed his pace to match the other man's and they made their way back down the street. All in all, the trip hadn't taken that long but Sam felt a little better about Dean's lungs. As soon as he opened the door to the room he stepped back and let Dean head inside.

It was a little warmer inside and Dean shrugged out of his coat, sliding it down his arms and hanging it over the back of the chair. There was definitely a possibility that the pain meds were affecting his brain and he didn't like it. Dropping softly down onto the edge of the bed he dragged his leg up over his knee by tugging on the jeans and took a deep breath before pulling at the ties on his boot.

Shaking his head, Sam didn't even bother asking Dean if he wanted help again. Obviously, he just wanted to take care of things himself. The problem was it made Sam feel a little useless. "Listen," he turned slightly, "I'm gonna go for a drive and pick up some... food for later, snacks in the room. You want anything?"

"No, thanks." Dean shook his head, successfully tugging off his second boot and throwing it across the room. "Gonna lay down for a bit." He pushed off the bed, slipping out of his jeans and walking around to tug back the blanket.

Sam slipped out the door and didn't stop moving until he was in his car. This game they were playing, the dancing around, was getting to him. Neither of them seemed likely to want to change the way they lived their life. Sam didn't even know if he could be any different at this point - he didn't really know any other way _to be_.

He drove for a couple of hours, stopped at a store on the way back to the motel to pick up a few different snacks and a six pack of beer. Even if Dean wasn't drinking, Sam figured he could use some alcohol if he was going to have to share a bed with Dean again. "Ridiculous," he muttered, "the whole thing."

Far too soon, Sam was back at the motel room door again, taking a deep breath and opening the door. Sam noticed Dean was still in bed, so he put the beer and snacks on the desk and shrugged off his coat. While he was toeing his boots off he looked over at Dean. The man was _sprawled_ across the bed, covers draped across his hips. Sam let his head fall down briefly. _God_. He really didn't need to be looking at this. Dean was hot enough fully clothed, let alone, spread out on the bed like he was waiting for... well, someone.

Sam realized he'd been standing there for a while and staring, because... _hot_.

He slipped his t-shirt off over his head. It really couldn't hurt to just lie down beside Dean for a while. He crawled onto the bed slowly, careful not to move Dean. He kneeled there for a few moments, staring down and Dean's face; his lashes were so dark against his skin. Sam lay down on the bed and rested his head on Dean's extended arm. He smelled good, sleep-warm and clean. Licking his lips, Sam let his arm snake over Dean's hips, fingers barely grazing the warm flesh above the covers. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Sam closed his eyes and shifted a little closer.

No matter what type of pain Dean may be experiencing, it didn't stop his well trained hunter reflexes from being always on alert. Which was why he was completely aware of Sam the moment the bed dipped and he could feel the change in the air. With the gentle touches along his skin he worked at keeping his face calm and unaffected. It felt good to have Sam that close and Dean's mind supplied the memory of their kisses, the touching... heat started to build just under the surface of his skin and he wet his lips. Lifting up his head, he peered down at Sam and said softly, "Good drive?"

Sam's eyes shot open and he pulled back, "I..I'm sorry," _shit_ ,"I was just... well," there was really no believable explanation so Sam gave up before he started. "I had an okay drive."

"Come here," Dean said softly, tilting his chin up slightly.

Looking up at Dean for a few moments, Sam shifted forward and settled against Dean's side, carefully laying his arm high on Dean's chest away from his bruises. "Am I hurting you?" He spoke softly, nestling in as close as he could.

Shaking his head, Dean shifted slightly, turning his head toward Sam. "I'm okay," he whispered just as quietly and pushed up enough to brush his lips along the corner of Sam's mouth. "Thanks. Really. For everything you've done for me." He turned his head slightly and let his lips just barely brush across Sam's as he moved to the other corner of his mouth and pressed another kiss there.

Sam's heart started skittering around in his chest the moment Dean's lips were touching him. His eyes fluttered closed and he soaked up the feeling of warm from Dean's words. "You're... welcome..." he murmured. Sam opened his eyes again and blinked a few times. How did they figure out what to do? Sam had far more questions than he had answers these days. Fortunately, he was able to completely ignore them.

Pressing his hand lightly to Dean's collar bone he made sure Dean was settled back on the mattress, "don't hurt yourself, I'm not... patching you up again." Sam propped himself up on his elbow and smiled, fingers moving along Dean's shoulder. He licked his lips, nervous; it seemed like every time Sam and Dean ended up in the same room things went sideways. He leaned down and kissed Dean's bottom lip, letting his tongue slip out and glide over the warm skin.

Dean moaned softly into the touch. It was better than he remembered. Sam's tongue was warm and sent shivers through him at the slightest movement. He let one hand lift and rest on Sam's side, not daring to slide any higher through he wanted to bury his fingers in the man's hair and kiss him with force. His own tongue snaked past his lips to trail briefly over Sam's before he pulled it back in and tilted his head just slightly.

Sam's body remembered the sound of Dean's moan; his breath caught in his chest and couldn't help sliding closer. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to do _this_ again, but really, what could it hurt? Even as his mouth opened and his head tilted he was still thinking he should leave. But... his body remembered. Dean's mouth was warm, soft, tasted the way that Sam remembered; he slipped his tongue back into the other man's mouth and explored gently, the roof of his mouth, his teeth, then back to the soft fullness of his lips. He sighed out a small groan and slid his hand up to curl around the back of Dean's neck. His hair was soft against the back of Sam's hand. They kissed, long, slow, full, tongues tangled until Sam's mind was completely wiped of anything other than _Dean_. Fingers dipping slightly under the waist band of Dean's boxers, Sam shifted his leg closer, pressing his body almost completely against Dean's; mouths moving languidly, chests, hips and thighs touching.

Kissing Sam was effectively serving to block out all the pain Dean might be feeling. His focus zeroed in on the man's lips, on his fingers below the cotton of his underwear, of the heat radiated from his crotch just to the side of him. Dean couldn't seem to stop his moans because he'd been dreaming about _this_ for almost two years since it last happened. It was all he could think about. To the point where he could barely even manage a hook up with random strangers. Sam just seemed to know the best way to get to him. Dean let his hand on Sam's side slide down, hooking under the denim of the man's jeans. Sliding along the fabric to the button, Dean's hands shook slightly as he tugged on the area, slipping the button from the fabric and tugging down the zipper.

 _God_ it felt good when Dean loosened his pants, Sam was _so_ hard already. Dean did that to him; just some kisses and the lightest touch and Sam was _gone_. It was no wonder he had thought about Dean so many times, more specifically, thought about these kisses. Dean's mouth was perfect; soft in the right ways, lips silky smooth.

Sam tugged his lips away from Dean's reluctantly, laying a path of open-mouthed kisses along the man's jaw line. He pressed Dean back down with his chest, "relax," he whispered, "you're gonna hurt yourself again." Nuzzling into Dean's neck Sam sucked hard on the sensitive flesh right below Dean's ear as he slid his hand back and forth across Dean's abs. Nudging his fingers further down, Sam could feel the rough curls of hair and the warmth, _Jesus_ , the warmth radiating off Dean was intense. Shuffling back a little Sam pushed up on to his elbow again, lips just out of reach of Dean's. He slid his hand all the way under the waist band of Dean's short, catching the base of Dean's cock in the curve between his thumb and finger; his fingers move through the rough curls. His eyes were locked with Deans, watching the flush creep up the man's face, seeing Dean catch his own lips between his teeth. Sam huffed out a small laugh as he gripped Dean's hard shaft, " _you_ are so... gorgeous like this."

With a faint chuckle, Dean rolled his hips under Sam's touch moaning softly. His hands slid along Sam's skin, pushing at the jeans as much as he could without lifting up. "Jesus Sam," he breathed out when the feel of Sam's fingers moving up his flesh ricocheted through him. This time Dean couldn't help the upward jerk of his hips. Air fell from his lips in quick bursts and Dean had to stop a moment to pull in a deep breath. Sam was going to succeed in making him lose his mind if he kept this up. "Want... naked..." he gasped out, fingers nudging once more at Sam's waist line.

"Only," Sam withdrew his hand and rolled to the side of the bed, "if you promise not to hurt your ribs anymore." It wasn't like Sam was actually going to stop, wasn't like he _could_ stop. He stood and slid his jeans and boxers off and moved around to Dean's side of the bed. His fingers curled over the top of his waistband and he tugged the other man's shorts down and off. Moving quickly he slipped back on the bed and scooted over to Dean's side.

The sudden touch of Dean's thigh against Sam's hardness slammed his eyes shut and his hips moved slowly against Dean's leg. " _Jesus_....Dean..." When he could function again he reached forward and curled his fingers, once more, around Dean's girth, working his hands slowly up and down, twisting his wrist, thumb glancing over the head.

Whatever noise fell from Dean's lips was unintelligible and closer to a moan than anything else. Sam's hand around him was succeeding in sending his heart soaring, blood rushing in his ears as he lifted his hips up into the touch. "Sam... Samm..." he dragged out the man's name, loving how Sam's palm wasn't quite smooth, had just the right texture of roughness to drive him insane. It was no doubt better than any other touch he'd felt before. He could only reach a little bit of Sam's flesh but he trailed his fingers along that patch. It was much harder to be on this side of things and he thought about how Sam must have felt in this position _last_ time. "More..." he pleaded, hips shifting restlessly. "Sam... more..." It had definitely been too long since the last time someone touched him.

Sam smiled against the warm skin of Dean's chest as he leaned in to catch Dean's nipple with his teeth. His hand stroked Dean slowly, teasing, wanting to draw out the other man's pleasure as long as possible.

Licking, sucking, and biting his way down Dean's body - Sam's hand moved over the man's stomach once more. He slid his palm over the curves of Dean's muscles, ran his fingers along the line of his hip bone, it felt like there was so much to commit to memory. Tongue gliding over Dean's flesh, Sam shifted so his cheek was resting against Dean's belly. His blood was racing through his veins in time with the hard pounding of his heart. "You'll ...tell me," he breathed out softly, turning to look up at Dean, "if it hurts..."

"Yeah," Dean nodded quickly and let his hand tangle in Sam's hair. He couldn't imagine it hurting enough to make Sam stop though. That touch, this man, was succeeding in making Dean lose the ability to think, to breathe, and he had no idea what was coming next but _man_ was he looking forward to it. "M'good Sam... just... want..." he rolled his hips, urging Sam to continue his actions.

There was a gentle smile on Sam's face as he pressed his lips back on Dean's restless body; his warmth soaking through Sam's flesh. Dean still smelled of sleep, musky and warm. Shifting down slightly, Sam focused his attention on Dean's hip, sucking the sensitive skin just below the jut of bone. He moaned softly as his tongue lapped along the crease at the top of Dean's thigh, splayed fingers slid down once more to wrap around Dean's swollen shaft. Sam's own _want_ was ratcheted up so high he couldn't believe it - his hands were shaking, his skin crawling with goose flesh, body arching slightly toward Dean's.

When he finally moved close enough, Sam's tongue darted out and ran up the vein running along the underside of Dean's cock. He had to slip both hands over Dean's hips to keep them from rising up too far off the mattress. Turning to look up at Dean, Sam grinned, and blew a hot breath against Dean's flesh. "You... good?" Sam licked his lips.

" _Fuck_..." Dean groaned loudly, head snapping up to peer down at Sam. "I promise. I'll let you know if I'm not. Just... do that again," he huffed out a breath before dropping his head back down on the pillow. His body was struggling to arch up into Sam's mouth but the man was holding him down somehow. Which was probably for the best because he was fairly certain his ribs would have protested to that action with a sharp jolt of pain. His mind felt cloudy from the pleasure and he moaned softly, fingers tightening in Sam's hair.

Still grinning, his eyes heavy-lidded, Sam leaned forward and dragged his wet lips back and forth across the head of Dean's cock. His tongue darted out to lap up the drops of pre-come as they leaked out; the musky, salty taste filled Sam's mouth and he groaned slipping his leg further over Dean's so he could press his own hardness against the other man's hip. His slid his mouth lower, tongue swirling circles around Dean's throbbing flesh, sucking inch by inch, taking the heat of his mouth closer and closer to Dean's body.

Dean gasped out with the swell of pleasure, fingers curling tightly in the silky locks of Sam's hair. He pulled in a deep breath, letting the air stretch his lungs, pressing just enough against his ribs to send a dart of pain along with the pleasure. It was oddly erotic and Dean moaned the man's name, rolling his hips up into Sam's mouth. It had been just far too long since he'd had someone with him like this and he could already feel the tug and pull of his orgasm at his senses.

Sucking hard, Sam swallowed a few times and took all of Dean into his mouth and throat. He had to pull back a little once, and then his mouth was back, his face nestled in rough curls, and the scent of sex. Sam moaned as he pulled back, sliding his lips up and down the rock-hard shaft, sucking gently then grazing his teeth over the sensitive crown. Letting Dean's hips rock into his hands, Sam sucked and licked and moaned, his own hips rutting against Dean's leg.

"Sam..." Dean hissed, lifting his head to watch the steady rise and fall of Sam's head over his crotch. Probably one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. Another shock of pleasure raced through him and his head fell back onto the pillow. "Shit Sam... I'm gonna..." he warned and tugged at the man's hair in warning, hips arching up as pleasure shot through his system, releasing in hot streams into the tight heat of Sam's mouth.

Thumbs digging hard into Dean's hips, Sam swallowed Dean's warmth, gently pulsing the flat of his tongue against the man's twitching cock. Lapping and sucking, Sam pulled back slowly, and then finally pulled free and gasped for air. He panted as he shifted to rest his cheek against Dean's hip, staring up at the other man's ruddy cheeks. Twining his fingers through Dean's, Sam closed his eyes for a few moments.

Dean pulled in deep breathes to calm his racing heart and the pound of blood through his veins. "Jesus Sam..." he said softly when his chest wasn't rising and falling so hard. He squeezed Sam's fingers in his, lifting his head to stare down at the man.

Opening his eyes slowly Sam groaned as he pushed up to crawl up into the crook of Dean's arm. He grabbed Dean's hand and pulled it around him, grinning, "you need anything?’Cause I'm about to have a _very_ good nap?" Still hard, Sam rolled his hips weakly against Dean's hip, nuzzling against the warm flesh of Dean's shoulder.

Chuckling low in his throat, Dean shook his head and rolled slightly until he could drop a hand on Sam's hipbone. "I don't think I'm the one who needs something," he said, voice still deep and gravely from his arousal. Eyes traveling along Sam's features, Dean slid his hand down, twisting his wrist so he could wrap his fingers around the man's hard shaft and drag upwards. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his thumb dragged along the slit, pressing down. He'd like to return the favor completely - was oddly curious what it would feel like to go down on a man, on Sam - but knew that would be pushing things. Instead he tightened and loosened his grip with each slide and drag.

Hips rocking forward slowly into Dean's grasp, Sam dragged a deep breath into his lungs and rode out a full body shudder. Blinking up at Dean Sam's fingers rubbed across the other man's chest, hand settling at the base of his neck. _Need_. Sam pushed his thoughts out of his mind, not wanting to really think about what he _wanted,_ or needed. Dean's thumb moved over the head of his cock again and Sam growled out some sort of noise that he'd never made before in his _life_.

With a shift forward Dean slid their lips together, wrist continuing to twist as he work Sam's flesh under his palm. Slanting to the side Dean opened his mouth of Sam's, tongue sliding into the man's mouth. He moaned at the taste of himself lingering on the man's tongue. His grip on Sam tightened and he jerked the man quick. Each noise Sam was making pleasure settle over his shoulders and Dean savored the fact that he could affect the man this way.

Sam's body jolted forward, " _God_ , Dean..." then his words were gone and he could only moan and whimper out small sound in between wet, crushing kisses. His breath hitched in his chest as his orgasm started, flooding heat through his body like vines of fire moving slowly through him. A few more thrusts and he was coming, long hard gasps from his mouth and long, hard pulses from his aching cock. "D...Dean..." his voice stuttered as the air rushed out of his body. Slowly, as he rode out the waves of pleasure, Sam pulled himself up to lick his way back into Dean's mouth.

As they continued to kiss Dean decided he really liked the way Sam moaned his name. He released his hold from the man and let his hand drag along the space of bed between them before coming to rest on his hip, tugging him closer. Dean fell back onto his pillow with a shaky breath, smile playing across his lips. "S'good..." he mumbled softly as sleep tugged once more at his mind.

Sam shifted slightly and moaned as he tried to roll over. It took him a few moments to be able to stand and he headed to the bathroom returning quickly with a damp cloth. Cleaning Dean's side and wiping the bed quickly, he smiled to himself watching the steady rise and fall of the other man's chest. He tossed the cloth on the floor and settled back against Dean, grimacing slightly when he settled onto the damp spot on the sheet. It was worth it, he wrapped his arm back around Dean and fell asleep listening to him breathe.

-=-=-=-

There weren't a lot of memories in Dean's mind of a time when he felt more relaxed then the following days he spent with Sam. Even if he was healing from one of the worst injuries he'd ever experienced. Dean could fight through the pain and if he had been alone he probably would have been on the road already. With Sam there though he didn't mind taking the time to get better. Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a break. The next morning when he woke with Sam's body pressed to his, he felt like he could really take breaks more often if Sam were around. This sparked up a whole onslaught of thoughts in his mind that he forcefully shoved away, deciding not to think about them until the next time he slipped behind the wheel and stared down the hundreds of miles between him and his next location.

They spent most of the day in comfortable silence, walking to a nearby dinner to get food, taking another stroll through the park. There was no discussion over the things that had passed between them the night before and Dean almost thought he may have dreamed it. But that night he found himself between Sam's spread legs, sliding his lips along hard flesh and pulling him in. As it turned out, going down on Sam was definitely not a bad thing, even with the ache in his chest from his ribs.

Afterwards Dean lay on his back with Sam tucked against his side, staring up at the ceiling and trying to determine the tug of emotions in him. The fact remained that he _liked_ this. Liked Sam against his side, liked having someone to eat meals with, to walk in the park with. Dean had never had anyone before. When he was a kid - before he was old enough to hunt - he was just a burden. An object his Dad had to keep an eye on even if he'd rather keep both focused elsewhere. He was passed from person to person until he was old enough to reach the stove and then he was left in motel rooms alone. Then he was old enough to hunt and that was the only thing he knew. Hell, Dean had never really had a _friend_ let alone someone he wanted to have sleeping at his side.

He knew that it was only a matter of time before Sam would want to be on his way. Even though he enjoyed their relaxation his fingers were itching to move, especially as the pain grew easier to ignore. Which is why, before Dean fell asleep that night, he began formulating a plan in his mind.

The following day was spent much like the ones before, though their walk turned more into an entire afternoon exploring the local neighborhood - with Dean's promise he'd have Sam's back in a fight, should the situation arise. And that night they had barely finished eat before Sam was on his knees between Dean's legs. They spent the rest of the evening sharing long kisses and getting each other off and Dean didn't have any brain power left to think by the time they fell back on the bed.

In the morning he knew the time had come. He could tell just by the shift in the air. Sam was preparing himself to say goodbye and a weird sort of panic flared up in Dean. He didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't want to leave this whole thing up to fate anymore. They were both hunters so there was no reason they couldn't do exactly that, hunt, just together. It was safer to travel as two anyway and they certainly got along. Dean didn't understand the full extent of the way he was feeling for Sam but he knew he wanted the guy around and that was enough.

So when Sam pulled his duffel bag onto the table, Dean slid out of bed and tugged on his boxers. His heart was thudding oddly in his chest as he pulled on a pair of jeans and headed to his bag. "So... you headin' out today then?" He asked softly, voice gruff from the sleep he'd just left.

Sam glanced up and smiled, "yeah, got a couple things to look in to - next state over." He looked down at his clothes quickly - scared shitless that his face would reveal how hard it was for him to be packing let alone consider walking out the door alone. It had been a nice little fantasy Sam had going on, taking care of Dean, falling asleep beside him, but somewhere in the more rational part of his brain he'd know all along that it would come to an end.

"Oh? Anything major?" Dean dropped on the bed, tugging on his boots. It still hurt slightly to bend over but that was just something he was going to have to deal with for awhile. "I hadn't given much thought to where I'd go next." He watched Sam, trying to determine what the man might be feeling.

"Nothing I can't handle," Sam glanced up and flashed Dean the best smile he could manage, "I'm better than I used to be - a bit stronger." There was nothing left for Sam to pack so he shifted the clothes around in his bag for a few moments until he could finally zip the bag up. "So... should I write down my number or you wanna just run into each other again in some strange location?" He tried to sound lighthearted even if he didn't feel it.

Dean frowned slightly as he stood, doing up the buttons on his shirt. In his mind this had seemed much easier, like maybe Sam would just sort of suggest it and they could figure out the details later. "Hey you know, I don't really have anywhere to go. We could... I mean, we both hunt alone right? And it's safer in partners. What happened before, with me, I would have died if you hadn't happened to be around. So... we could... partner up? Hunt together?" He rubbed at the back of his neck, staring at the floor and pointedly ignoring the fluttering in his chest as the question hung in the air between them, thick and heavy.

"Hunt together?" Sam looked over at Dean, waiting, _fucking_ hoping there was more to that offer.

"Yeah," Dean looked up, reaching out for his leather coat and tugging it on. "It would be really beneficial in all aspects really. Sharing a room would cut our costs in half. And hustling at pool. Is that how you get your money? Well that would be helpful. Along with the research stuff, if you're good with that. I'm alright and..." he snapped his jaw shut, realizing he was rambling and probably sounding pretty idiotic.

Sam blinked a few times, cleared his throat and looked down at the worn carpet. "I think... I'm good on my own. I mean... so are you... that accident was a one-time thing. You're a better hunter than I'll ever be. Thanks though," his stomach was twisting up in a painful knot, "for thinking I'm good enough I mean, to have your back." He turned his back to Dean and fiddled with his duffel trying to get a hold of himself. He wanted more. He didn't know how much more - but he didn't want to just be Dean's hunting buddy. He couldn't keep crawling into bed with the guy at night and _not_ end up having feelings for him.

The sting of rejection was sharper than Dean had anticipated. He wasn't used to it that was for sure. Of course it wasn't like he put himself on the line very often. Or ever. And here it was, the one time he did he got a solid no. Clenching his jaw, Dean zipped up his duffel bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He didn't bother scanning the room for anything he might have missed. Whatever it was he could replace it later. Anything to get out of this room and the tense, cold line of Sam's shoulder. Dean felt a little like he was going to be sick and he didn't even want to try to figure out why. "Fine." He managed to spit out the word, heading for the door after checking his pocket and ensuring his keys were there. "Guess I'll see you around then." He yanked open the door and stepped quickly passed the threshold.

Sam's head was spinning. Okay, so he didn't want to keep being a _port of call_ for Dean, but he had assumed they could, at least, stay friends, maybe even call each other once in a while. Dropping his bag, Sam moved swiftly to the door and pulled it open calling out, "Dean? You didn't take my cell number." He moved past the door slowly watching Dean's back as he walked toward his car.

Dean tossed his duffel in the backseat, slamming the door shut before pulling the driver's side open. He hesitated with his arm along the roof, sighing as he pulled his sunglasses from his jacket pocket and slipped them on. "No. I didn't." He said softly and finally raised his head to lift up and look at Sam. His heart ached, stung more than he'd ever felt it before. Half a week of something wonderful and like everything else in Dean's life, it was being yanked away before he even had the chance to really see how great it could be. "Maybe it's just for the best right? After all, you're good on your own." He dropped down into the seat and tugged the door shut, jamming his key in the ignition.

Sam was standing there stunned as the door slammed shut, and when the engine roared to life and even as he watched Impala start to move away. Then, in an instant, Sam's chest ached like he'd been drop-kicked and suddenly he didn't care if Dean didn't want anything more than a hunting partner.

But, if Dean caught a glimpse of Sam in his rear-view mirror, running down the road until the dust was filling his lungs and making his eyes tear up, he didn't stop. Sam rested his hands on his thighs, panting, watching the Impala disappear down the road. The tears had to be from the dust.


	4. Chapter 4

-=-=-=- May 2006 -=-=-=-

Dean was there when it happened and later - when he'd regained the power to use his brain - he couldn't decide if that was for the best or not. Maybe it would have been harder to believe if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. Or maybe he wouldn't have fallen hard the rest of the way off the cliff he'd been teetering on the edge of since last August and the day he left Sam. An action that he learned months later equaled out to leaving his heart behind. This though... more than all those other things, destroyed Dean.

There was an echo of the bullet leaving the barrel, a reverberation of the shattering explosion of that speeding lead slicing skin, cracking bone. Dean had already unloaded two shots from the colt and the demon was dropping dead as he turned and yelled, "Dad!" And even though he was next to the man in the following heartbeat, he knew by the shadow in his eyes that this was the end. "Shit. No. Nonono Dad, come on."

Dropping to his knees, Dean pulled his Dad's body into his arms. "Dean..." the man breathed, eyes glassy and fluttering up to him.

"Shh, don't try to talk," Dean shook his head and yanked open his dad's shirt, looking at the entry area of the bullet. Blood was gushing out and Dean figured it had to _just_ miss the heart. They were in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It would take at least twenty minutes to get to the nearest hospital. There was no hope for the man and that knowledge washed over Dean with such a cold realization, Dean choked on a sob. "It's okay. Dad it's gonna be okay," tears cascaded down his cheeks and he pressed his palm down into the wound, trying to stifle the bleeding.

"Dean..." John coughed around the word and a splatter of blood fell across Dean's shirt, staining the forest green fabric red. "Gotta... say..." John's hand curled around the hem of Dean's shirt and no matter how roughly Dean shook his head and said 'shh' the man continued forcing out the words. "Always loved you. Always son. Proud of you. You're... you're gonna be... okay. You can... be okay..."

And Dean watched the life fade from his father's eyes and wondered if the man would take his heart with him. Sobs wracked through his body, shaking his shoulders, twisting a thin rope around his heart and squeezing until it felt like there was nothing left. He held his father against his chest, rocking back and forth, sobbing until his throat ached, until there were no more tears left, until the body was stiff and cold and Dean couldn't feel his bent legs.

How he managed to get through the salting and burning of his father's body he didn't know. He didn't even know how he remembered that it was what he should do. Just the vaguest whisper of his father's words _if I ever die Dean, you burn the body you hear? Burn the body so nothing can happen._ Dean had never argued the issue and it clearly stayed ingrained in his mind because he completed the actions with basically no thought. He stayed until there was nothing left but the lingering smell of burning flesh and a small scattering of glowing embers.

He cleaned out his father's truck next, carrying all his weapons over to the trunk of the Impala and tossing them in. He'd sort through them later. His father's journal was tucked under the driver's seat and when Dean brought it up his heart clenched impossibly tighter. Just staring down at the worn leather, all those years watching the man writing in the book with a tense expression, it hit Dean like a round of blows into his gut that this was it. He would never see his father again. There would never be a time in which the man would call him up, would ask for his help. Dean. Had. No one.

The feeling was so suddenly overwhelming; Dean could feel the walls clamp down around his heart because he couldn't take anymore. He'd always wondered if there would be a point at which he could no longer handle the feelings, after Sam, being more lonely then he could ever remember feeling and this... the death of his father right in his arms. Dean's only comprehensible thought was to _go_. To drive. To get as far away from this place as he could get and then... he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

He had no idea how many days he drove, things just blurred together into mile marker after mile marker, road signs and gas stations. Dean functioned on the bare basics. Food, water... Dean didn't sleep, didn't stop, and didn’t shower. Which is why he was still wearing blood stained clothes when he arrived at the Roadhouse. He didn’t know how many days it had been but a path practically cleared itself for him the moment he stepped in the bar.

Ellen didn't have to ask, there was a beer in front of him the moment he sat down. If she said anything to him Dean didn't register the words. All he knew was, finish the alcohol, soak in the copper liquid and when it was gone, slide the bottle back in a silent request for more.

It hadn't taken Ellen long to decide that she needed to call someone... and the only person she'd ever seen Dean actually smile at was Sam Colt. It took her about ten minutes of rifling through the contents of the _junk_ drawer to find Sam's number and she slipped into the cold storage room to call him.

Sam was driving along with the windows down, listening to some crappy country radio station when his cell rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. The Roadhouse. Sam flipped it open.

"Ellen? Everything okay?"

"Sam, honey, you anywhere near our place?" Her voice was soft, a tone Sam hadn't heard very often.

"I... can be there..." Sam waited for the next mileage marker to show up, "in a couple hours. You and Jo okay? What's wrong?" He was starting to feel that little tinge of adrenaline in his system as he took the next off ramp and switched directions.

"What? Oh... yeah... we're fine Sam. It's Dean Winchester - you and he are friends right? I mean you know him?"

Sam's heart did that little flop he'd been trying to get rid of. The one that happened in the middle of his chest every _damn_ time he thought of Dean. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know him, he okay?" He tried to sound less anxious than he felt.

"Well, he's breathing and drinking and sitting at my bar - but that's about all I can say that's good." Her sigh sent a chill down Sam's spine and his leaned on the gas a little more.

"What happened? Ellen? You're bein' a bit vague here..." Sam's voice was thin, his patience thinner.

"Sam, there are some things that are peoples' own business to talk about. All I know is, Dean needs a hand and you're all I could think of," her voice hardened again, "look Sam if I made a wrong choice here…”

Sam cut her off, "no, no, I'm already headed there Ellen, just worried. See you as soon as I can." Sam flipped his phone closed.

He made it to the Roadhouse in a little under an hour, thankful there hadn't been any cops along the way. It was weird pushing the heavy front door open knowing that he'd be talking to Dean in a few moments. Hell, he hadn't stopped thinking about doing _just_ that since he'd stood in the middle of the street watching Dean drive away. He spotted Dean's outline straight away, sitting at the bar, and everyone was giving him a lot of space so, obviously, things were bad.

He made it across to the bar in about six steps; the smell hit his nose about two steps from Dean's back. " _Jesus_ ," he blinked as his eyes watered a little, "Dean..." but the name died on his lips when he saw Dean's face. Dean looked like he'd been to hell and back. He was covered in dried blood, his face - now thinner - was drawn and pale, he was _filthy_. Sam bumped into the stool beside him and sat down automatically rather than deciding to. Coughing, trying to breathe through his mouth he gaped at Dean.

It was a little like Dean was outside his body, staring down at the scene before him and trying to figure out what to make of it while having no control over what happened. That wall that he'd slammed down over his emotions quivered slightly as he turned to look at the person beside him. _Sam_. Dean had sort of thought he'd never see him again. Seeing him now? Was probably the worst timing _ever_. Dean turned back to his beer - number eight? nine? He wasn't keeping track any more - and tilted it back, downing the contents in a few solid gulps. He slammed the bottle back down on the counter with more force than necessary and looked up for Ellen and a refill.

"Dean? We should, uh, probably get you outta here man." Sam reached out and curled his fingers around Dean's filthy jacket.

This had Dean's head snapping back and he looked down at the fingers before looking up at Sam. "What makes you think I'm going _anywhere_ with _you_?" He dragged out the words, voice rough and raw from the days of not being used, from the time before where he sobbed for hours. From _everything_.

Those words hi Sam square in the chest and he sat back further on his stool, fingers slipping off Dean's arm. "I... I didn't think..." he swallowed, "Dean - are you okay? What happened? He gestured to the blood on Dean's jacket, chest, and _Jesus_ his shirt.

"Do I look hurt?" Dean scoffed and looked back up. For the first time he noticed the other hunters casting him nervous glancing like maybe he was two steps away from losing his mind. Dean looked down when he realized that might be not so far off the mark. "I'm fuckin' fine Sam. Leave me alone."

"Look, Dean, you're not fine, you _stink_ , for one thing. When was the last time you had a shower? And, what's with the slaughter house look you got going on here with the blood? Let's just get you to a motel room then you can keep drinking yourself to death and ignoring me if that's what you want." Sam was getting frustrated. He wanted to help but he didn't want to get bitched at for _trying_.

For the first time in however-the-fuck long, Dean felt his blood boil. Anger. It was an emotion he felt he could hitch on to and ride out so the next words out of his mouth were closer to a growl than anything else, "I said. Leave. Me. Alone." He turned to Sam, eyes burning, fist clenching on the counter top.

Sam brushed his hair back off his forehead and stood grabbing Dean's arm and tugging, "Okay Hero, that's enough, you gotta get out of here before Ellen gets someone a lot pissier than me to chuck your lame ass out. I'll drive you to your motel then leave. Get your ass up." Sam tugged harder on Dean's arm.

The touch ricocheted through Dean and he lost it, hand spinning up hard to shove Sam away even as he stood. Even as he pulled the gun he'd been hiding tucked at his side up and cocked it. Within a blink of an eye he had the barrel pointed at Sam's head, finger on the trigger. "What part of that didn't get through your thick skull _Sam_?" He hissed the words, feeling the ripple effect of his actions washing over the room. He could see the other hunters in the bar shifting, tightening into fighting stance and he knew there had to be weapons on him but he didn't fucking _care_. They could shoot him. That would be just _fine_.

Ellen moved slowly to stand at her bar, both hands where Dean could see them. Her voice was firm and even, "now, Dean, you listen to me son. This is _my_ bar and you need to put that weapon away and get your _ass_ out of here - unless you want me calling your Father later to explain what an _idiot_ his son is." She stared at Dean's profile, eyes flitting only once to Sam when she saw his finger twitch to his own hidden weapon. She shook her head slowly. "Do I have to call your Father, Dean?"

Dean let out a cold, harsh laugh that sounded bitter even to his own ears. "Yeah Ellen, you go ahead and do that. Oh and when you talk to him? Ask him how _hell_ is." When the silence that followed felt heavy, hanging on his shoulders like a dead weight he hissed. "My _father_ is fucking dead."

The words echoed around him and Dean's eyes widened. He'd yet to say it out loud but now that he did, they washed over him like a cold bucket of reality. Slowly his arm lowered, the gun bumping against his leg and he let his eyes fix on Sam. "Shit. Sam..." his breath stuttered, the world tilted, and he stumbled forward to the man.

Sam didn't know what to do first, he wrapped his arm around Dean and pulled him close, his free hand taking the gun from Dean's hand and slipping it into the back of his own jeans. His eyes met Ellen’s eyes over Dean's head and nodded, letting her know he'd be okay from that point forward. Somehow, he hoped that she could read that thanks on his face. "Dean?"

"Don't," he shook his head rapidly and tried to push them to the door. "Just... get me out of here." Dean's voice was low but the silence still hung in the bar and he knew Sam had to have heard him.

"Okay, Dean," Sam shifted his arm around the other man and moved them quickly towards the door; he kicked it open and pulled Dean outside. "Your keys..." he patted Dean's jacket and heard the keys, reached in and pulled them out. The Impala was always easy to spot and Sam tucked Dean under his arm and moved them toward the car. It took a few moments of fumbling to get Dean in the passenger seat, he'd gone silent again, and Sam had _no_ idea what to expect next. _John Winchester, dead._ Sam moved quickly around the car and slid behind the wheel.

Dean could feel the car move, felt the familiar hum under him as the engine vibrated, everything else was numb. The words he'd said still bounced around his brain, _dead. Dead. He's really dead._ Dean stared out the window at the passing mile markers, wondering where they were going just to keep from thinking about the cold reality of everything. So many years he'd spent resenting his father for never loving him enough, for not giving him the life he'd seen person after person living. And he'd never get to tell him that. If he had the chance to stand in front of the man one more time Dean thought he would punch him square in the jaw. Then he'd hug him, cling to him, demand that he not go because even without all those things, Dean didn't know how to _go on._

They pulled up to some nondescript motel after awhile and Dean stayed leaned against the door while Sam went into the office. Everything was trickling in on him now. The smell of dry, decaying blood. The fact that his clothing was still smeared with the last remands of his father. When he closed his eyes he could see the life fading from the man's eyes on a loop so he forced them open, kept them that way even though exhaustion was finally settling over him like a thick, cloudy fog.

When Sam returned the man helped him inside which was alright because Dean didn't think his legs were up to the task alone. Alcohol clung to his senses, making everything blur, and he stumbled to the nearest chair the moment he could, dropping down in it with a large sigh. "Fuck." He breathed, staring down at his jeans. "Fuck," he repeated, louder, his hand slamming down hard on the table top and making it shake.

"Hey," Sam kneeled down in front of Dean letting his hand settle on the other man's grimy cheek. He simply stared up into Dean's eyes for a few moments, then his hand slipped down and he started to tug Dean's boots and socks off. Reaching up he slipped his hands under Dean's jacket and slid it down over his shoulders letting it fall onto the chair behind him.

Dean didn't really help Sam but he didn't resist. Simply allowed the man to take off his boots and socks and stared down at him. Before, Dean had thought things were too much and now he was simply numb. Shocked maybe. So many people he'd seen die, so many families he'd had to watch grieve, but he'd never thought he'd be in this place. Even if he'd always known the job they had never ended until death. Dean's shoulders shook and he bent forward, trying to stop them.

Sam looked up at Dean, ducking his head a little bit so he could see the other man's face, "just a few more minutes." His fingers worked quickly to unbutton Dean's shirt and push it off his shoulders and Sam pushed up to stand, holding out a hand for Dean. "Let's get you clean."

Continuing his silence Dean lifted his hand and let it rest in Sam's, allowing the man to pull him up. "Burn those." He said, voice just as numb as he was feeling. He didn't want anything to remind him of that moment and he knew it was pretty unlikely week old blood was going to wash out anyway. "Except the jacket," he added. They'd have to figure out how to clean that because Dean had received that jacket as a gift... and he wasn't letting _it_ be burned as well.

"Okay," Sam's hands dropped to Dean's waist and undid the button and zipper on his jeans. He shoved them down along with Dean's boxers and let Dean lean on him to step out of them. "I'm gonna turn the shower on, I'll be right back, okay?" Sam's hand drifted back up to Dean's cheek.

Nodding slowly, Dean stood rooted to the spot. He wanted to sleep now, more than he wanted to be clean, but figured the being clean thing would make the sleeping a lot easier. Still, the exhaustion weighed him down and he swayed slightly, reaching out to curl his fingers around the chair and hold him there. It occurred to him that he should move, head to the bathroom, help Sam, but he couldn't seem to kick start his feet into gear.

Sam took a few minutes in the bathroom to get a grip on his _own_ emotions. The whole idea of Dean's father being dead, the look of utter loss on Dean's face, everything was swirling around in Sam's mind. He didn't know how to help, just knew he had taken care of Dean before and he would do it again, until Dean was ready to leave. Sam started the shower and moved back out to the main room. He shrugged off his jacket and tugged his t-shirt off and took Dean's hand, leading him into the bathroom. "You okay to shower by yourself? I can stay if you want..."

"Stay," Dean looked up at Sam. "I just... I'm tired. Think I might pass out and drown," he tried to force a smile but his lips didn't seem inclined to tilt up. Dean could feel the dull thud of his heart and it seemed to echo against his ears. With a heavy exhale, he leaned against the nearest flat surface and closed his eyes slightly, only to pull them open with the flash of his father's dying face. _Fuck_.

Sam slipped out of his jeans, leaving his boxers on and quickly got into the shower, pulling the shower curtain closed behind him. Reaching past Dean he grabbed the soap and rubbed it between his hands until it lathered up a bit, "close your eyes." He kept his voice soft and started to rub his soapy hands in Dean's hair and over his face and shoulders. He slipped his arm around Dean and turned his gently so he was facing the jet of water and let him rinse off. Not really knowing what else to do, Sam just rubbed the soap over Dean's body, washing away the dirt and grime and hoping that he was doing _something_ right.

The shake to Dean's shoulders returned and he tried to focus on the feel of the water running over him, the comfort in Sam's touch. Tears pricked at his eyes though he had thought there would be none left. "Oh _god_..." he whispered and felt the swell of emotions just before the tipped him over the edge and a sob tore through him. Wanting that feeling to ease, to just go away for good, Dean turned and threw his arms around Sam, clinging to him moments before the strength left his legs.

Sam's heart ached for the man in his arms and he tightened his hold on him. One hand slid under Dean's arm and settled on the back of his neck, the other on the small of his back and Sam just held him, held him _up_ , and rode it out. He was murmuring things to Dean, things he wasn't even sure he believed. "It'll be okay. We'll make it. I'm so sorry." He didn't really think that the actual words mattered as much as the sound of his voice. He stood there until he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold Dean up, and the steady sobs had slowed to a more periodic sound.

Clearing his throat, Sam shifted Dean's head a little, "let's get you dried off and in bed." He stepped out of the shower, still hanging on to Dean and grabbed a towel; throwing the towel around Dean's shoulders Sam rubbed it over Dean's arm. "You okay? Can you drink some water for me?" He dipped his head down so he could look into Dean's red-rimmed eyes.

"Y-yeah," Dean stumbled on the word and heaved a heavy sigh. Having released the most recent build of emotions, Dean felt more exhausted then before and he fumbled with the water bottle Sam offered him. Taking a long drink he handed it back and leaned against the wall for a moment before pushing off and taking small steps into the motel room. "Will you... you'll stay?" He asked softly, eyes fixing on the bed.

"Yeah, I'll stay," Sam put the water bottled down and slipped his arm back across Dean's shoulders, "let's get you settled." Moving them back into the room, Sam could feel the exhaustion coming off Dean in waves as though his body had just run out of gas. He pulled back the covers and gently pushed Dean down helping him to get in bed. Turning to grab his duffel, Sam realized his car was still at the roadhouse and briefly considered sleeping in his wet boxers before tugging them off and hanging them over the chair back to dry. Padding around to the other side of the bed he pulled the covers back and got in, trying to give Dean as much space as he needed. "Wake me if you need anything, Dean... anything." Sam settled his head on the pillow and blinked up at the ceiling. It felt like it had been about four days since Ellen called him.

"Sam..." he said the man's name softly and when Dean pulled his hands up from under the covers they shook. He stared at them for a long time until he felt words bubbling up, demanding to be said and acknowledged before his brain would let him shut it down actually make up for the days of missed sleep. "I held him... with these hands. He died in my arms. I couldn't stop them in time. When he needed me most I couldn't stop them. I... I let him die." Dean lifted his eyes from his shaking fingers and looked up at Sam. "He's _gone_ and it's my fault."

Sam rolled closer and reached out for Dean's hands. "I know it feels like that now...and I'm not gonna blow smoke up your ass and offer you a bunch of hollow platitudes. I know how you feel," Sam leaned over and settled against Dean's chest so he could look into his eyes, "you _know_ I know how it feels to lose someone." Stretching up he pressed his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth. "It wasn't your fault."

Curling into Sam's body, Dean chose to say no more on the issue. There was no more strength left in him for any of this anymore. He knew he'd probably have nightmares but it was no use trying to fight it off any longer. Shifting so he could tuck into Sam's side, Dean laid his head on the man's chest and sighed, wrapping an arm around him. Something familiar from before tugged at him but Dean shoved it away. Even if reason was telling him they were heading down the same path they couldn't seem to stay off of, Dean didn't care. This was what he needed now and he knew Sam wasn't going to deny him the right to be comforted.

Sam pulled Dean close and tugged the covers up over them both then pressed his lips to the top of Dean's head. It wasn't where he should be, not after the way things had gone but Dean needed someone to hold him together for a little while. Sam had never been that for anyone but he was willing to try. He could kid himself and pretend it had nothing to do with his feelings for Dean - but he wouldn't by lying beside any other man, hoping like hell he could comfort him _enough_ for him to get some sleep. Sam's eyes were wide open until he felt Dean's fist finally relax against his chest, and his breathing became deep and rhythmic.

Everything about Dean's first initial dreams were memories and flashes of time. He lost himself shifting through years, moments when things hadn't been so bad, moments when they worse than he could possibly imagine. And everything always seemed to lead up to that _one_ moment where it all just ceased to be. Whatever tossing and turning he would have done in his sleep was stifled by the strength of warm arms holding him flat against broad muscles. Dean clung to Sam like a lifeline keeping him tethered to this world. Even in his sleep he pulled comfort from the other man.

When he woke the bed was empty but one flop over and he spotted Sam sitting at the table quietly eating. "What time is it?" He asked, voice dry and rough with sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up and letting the blankets pool in his lap. Things were a little less numb now but a lot more raw and Dean had to take a deep breath to allow things to sort out in his mind, shift back into their appropriate places.

Sam looked at his watch, "it's about one thirty." He'd already showered and headed back to the roadhouse on foot to bring his own car to the Motel; on the way back he stopped to pick up some sandwiches and coffee. "I got you a coffee, it's still hot." He kicked his chair back from the table and stood, grabbing the coffee cup and bringing it over to Dean. Feeling a little awkward, he stood at the side of the bed for a few moments with the cup held out, then sat down on the edge of the mattress. "How you doing?" he asked as Dean took the coffee.

Shrugging, Dean took the coffee gratefully and sipped from it. "I'm... horrible," he said softly, curling his hands around the cup and letting it warm his palms. "This is... it's the worst thing I've ever felt. And I was already pretty fucked up before so. It didn't help. But I'll be fine." He sighed and drank a little more, staring down at the cup as he pulled it away. "No choice but to be fine."

Brow furrowed, Sam tilted his head. "You weren't fucked up before... a little stubborn maybe, but not fucked up." He smiled. Sam felt like he was the one who should be making that confession, not Dean. After all, his life had felt pretty lonely since the day he's stood in the road watching Dean drive away. And here he was, sitting with Dean, acting like Dean hadn't ripped him apart the day that happened; acting, like it hadn't changed the way Sam thought of himself.

"You haven't seen me over the past... well however long," Dean didn't add that he knew _exactly_ how long it had been. Looking up at Sam, he changed the topic, "Is Ellen pissed at me? Guess I'm gonna have to swing by and apologize."

"Nah, no one is pissed at you. They understand, you know." He looked down. "So, you okay on your own now, I mean? 'Cause if you want me gone - it's okay. I promised at the bar I'd just get you here and settled then I would take off." It was a struggle to even get the words out.

Dean let his eyes fall closed as the words only served to make the ache in his heart grow. With a soft sigh, he mumbled, "Could you just... stay here? For a little while? I know you don't want to be here but..." He dropped his head down and opened his eyes to peer once more into his coffee. "How'd you know where I was anyway?"

Blinking, Sam let all the questions run through his mind for a few moments. "Ellen... she called me and I drove here as fast as I could." He huffed out a small laugh, "might have broken some speed records." He paused, his smile fading. "Why... why did you say I don't want to be here?"

"Why would you want to be?" Dean looked up at him. "You didn't want to come with me before. I know I'm not... what you want." He flinched slightly at the words. Clearly this being raw from shock wasn't working to well from him. What he couldn't get was why with everyone else it was easy to shut of all emotions, turn off everything, but with Sam... he just couldn't _stop_ feeling.

Sam shook his head, "I don't understand, you didn't..." He pushed up from the bed. This wasn't the time to be having this kind of conversation with everything Dean had been through in the past weeks. "Never mind, look I'll stay as long as you want me here." _God_ he hated the hollow feeling in his chest. It was as though Dean had built himself a place in there, somewhere in Sam's chest and then just left it, gaping and empty.

"I don't want you to stay if it's going to be some burden," Dean snapped the clenched his jaw shut. He set the coffee on the nightstand beside him and went to stand before he realized he was naked. "Did you bring my bag in?" He asked, eyes fixed on the ground.

Dean's words stung and Sam just moved silently to pick up Dean's duffel from where it was by the door and heave it up on to the bed. "You're just going to leave again aren't you? Just like that." The words were out before Sam even had a chance to think about it, he stood there, arms hanging at his sides, staring at Dean. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"Jesus Sam, I just don't want to have this conversation butt ass naked," he huffed as he pulled open the bag. Once he'd slipped into boxers and jeans he turned and finally met Sam's eyes. "I don't _hate_ you. God. That couldn't be further from the truth."

Sam's hands were clenched into fists at his thighs. "Did you... did you see me the day you drove away from the Motel?"

Frowning, Dean slowly shook his head. "I saw you when I got into my car. I certainly _heard_ you when you said no. Was there something more I should have been seeing?" He turned to his bag once more and pulled out a shirt. Not having one on made him feel far too exposed and he felt that enough as it was.

Sam couldn't stop shaking; he stepped back and sat down on the chair again. "We can talk about it some other time," he pulled the bag toward him feeling pretty shitty for even bringing up the last time they had seen each other. Dean had just lost his father; the only person in the world who mattered to him and Sam was having a little emo _oh-I'm-so-broken-hearted_ moment. It was selfish. "I got some roast beef sandwiches, fruit and some muffins." He brushed his hair back off his face, his voice soft, "it'd be good if you ate something."

"Sam..." Dean said quietly, reaching down to get his coffee before he crossed to the table, dropping down into the seat. He scanned over the food, picked up a sandwich and set it in front of him. "Was there something more I should have been seeing?" Dean stared at him for a moment before bringing the cup to his lips and pulling in a large drink.

Sam looked down at the table and ran his thumb slowly along the grain of the wood. "I... I ran after you."

"Oh..." Dean set down his cup, staring at the Styrofoam and trying to determine what that meant exactly. There were certainly a lot of things it could have been that made Sam run after him and Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to know exactly what it was. "I didn't... know. Obviously."

"That's all. I just... I thought maybe you might have seen me in your mirror." That feeling was back, that hollow, never-going-to-be-full-again feeling that made Sam's spine ache. He scratched his head and kept his eyes on the table. "It's not a burden to be here," he said softly, "not at all."

"But you didn't..." Dean dragged his eyes across the table to stare at Sam's hands. "I asked if you wanted too... and you didn't. You said no. You didn't _want_ me."

Sam still didn't bother looking up. "I just wanted more than you offered," his voice sounded a little weak - but he was tired of trying to pretend, "I didn't want to be your hunting buddy. I..." he bit down on his bottom lip and pushed his sandwich away. "I don't see how all this matters now. I mean, I'm okay with it now," he lied.

"I'm not," Dean's frown deepened, trying to understand why Sam wasn't seeing things the way he saw them. "You thought I just wanted a hunting buddy? Sam, I've been hunting by myself for... almost a decade now. Why would I ask you to join me if all I wanted as hunting buddy?" He tilted his head to the side, finally taking in Sam's stiff profile. "I... that wasn't just what I wanted."

Sam finally lifted his head his eyes traveling slowly from Dean's hands to his chest and then his face. "It wasn't?"

Huffing out a surprised puff of laughter, Dean shook his head, "No Sam. It wasn't. I... fuck... I'm not good at this stuff. Why would I be? I've no experience with it. I've never... _wanted_ someone to come with me. You..." Dean sighed, head still shaking back and forth slightly. He reached out for his coffee, bringing it to his lips and saying softly before he took a sip, "I wanted you to come with me because I wanted you around."

"Oh." Sam thought about it for a few moments, fiddling with the plastic that had wrapped his sandwich. "Around like, someone to sleep with when you're lonely, or more?" He looked up at Dean sensing that he was going to get yelled at again, "'cause I want the more." He looked down again quickly. He wasn't sure he even wanted to see the expression that would be on Dean's face.

Setting the cup down once more, Dean turned in his seat and reached out to lay a hand on Sam's thigh. "Sam. This... you and me thing... I've never wanted anyone like I want you alright? If I wanted to do the sleep with someone when I'm lonely thing well... I'd do it. But that wasn't..." biting his lip for a moment, Dean thought about the past few years, beyond the death of his father - still to bone chilling to allow it to filter with memories - Sam was the only highlight. And he could probably even look as far back as his childhood and not find something that could compare to how Sam made him feel. "I don't want to leave this thing up to fate anymore. I'm not gonna lie, this thing with my dad, I'm probably gonna be a fucked up mess for awhile... but after that, and even during that, I want you here. You. And not just to fuck you cause I'm miserable okay?" He wasn't too sure how sane he sounded as the words fell from his lips but he figured the general idea was coming across. Or at least he hoped so.

"Okay," Sam rested his hand on Dean's, "okay. Now will you eat?" Sam's lips curled into a slight smile. He felt a little guilty when a thrill of happiness shot through his body, after all, this was probably the worse time in Dean's life and Sam was _happy_. He looked up, slipping easily back into the role of the one who _did_ the caring. "Eat, and finish your coffee. You've been treating your body like shit for a while. You need to get well." He squeezed Dean's fingers.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the coffee and sandwich. A small smile lifted up his lips and some of the ache that been so constantly the past week ebbed away slightly. It was comforting to know that grieving for his father would be a process of steps. The acceptance that he was really gone, the moving on and letting go. He'd get there and the idea that he wasn't going to have to do it alone made it just a little easier. "Thanks Sam," he said around a mouth full of roast beef. Glancing over at him, he tilted his lip up in a smirk. "Most people wouldn't stick around after someone pulled a gun on them. You're... a great guy."

Sam huffed, "or I'm just incredibly stupid." He watched Dean eat for a while, noting how worn he still looked - but then, Sam had no idea how much sleep Dean had even had in the previous days. The smile on his face was warmed when he reached out to rub his thumb over Dean's cheek. "We'll get you through this. I promise. I won't ask you about it anymore - but you can... you can talk to me whenever you need to."

Swallowing around the food in his mouth, Dean nodded. "Yeah... it's gonna take awhile. But you get the gist. Hunt gone wrong. Isn't that how it always happens with hunters?" He chuckled humorlessly and ate his sandwich in silence for awhile. "You know... I always told myself if he ever randomly disappeared one day I wouldn't care. Never thought it actually happening would hurt like this." He looked up from his food at Sam. "Sometimes I hated him more than I loved him. How fucked up is that?"

Sam just stared at Dean for a while. "I don't think," he shrugged, "it's fucked up. I think... well, from what I saw the only time I saw you two together, that he was a good man, but a hard man." Shifting slightly so his knee rested against Deans, "I can see how you would clash over things." He looked down at the table and smiled slightly, "he raised a good man. He seemed proud of you."

"He told me that," Dean swallowed and picked at the bread on the top of the sandwich, rocking his leg so his knee bumped against Sam's. "Before he died... he said he was proud of me. And that he'd always love me." Dean blew out a shaky breath and looked up at Sam with slightly watery eyes. "I can't... man, I hate this. I'm not used to it. Really, I just want it to be over. Can we just fast forward through this stupid grieving stuff? Go... kill something?" He forced a chuckle and dropped his gaze.

"Dean," Sam's voice was gentle, "you were pretty messed up yesterday. I'm glad you seem a bit better but... You scared me yesterday" Sam's eyes darkened a little. "You held a gun to my head." Saying the words out loud made the whole thing seem a little too real. "I'm not trying to stir up more shit for you but that was a pretty harsh reaction." Sam didn't even know what point he was trying to make. "You're messed up bad, man, you gotta let yourself heal."

"I hate fuckin' healing..." Dean stared down at the table. He knew he'd fucked up with Sam yesterday - and was even still a little shocked that the man hadn't reacted worst to the whole thing. Hell, if it had been the shoe on the other foot Dean would have had Sam down faster than... well... that probably wasn't accurate. If Sam had looked like he did yesterday, Dean probably would have been just as freaked out, and probably would have let Sam get away with anything. Still... "I really am sorry about yesterday. You didn't... I shouldn't have let myself snap like that. It was uncalled for."

"That's why it's called snapping. It's not like you planned it." Sam rested his hand on the table near Dean's. "I just wanna know... _before_ we're in a hunt that you're... okay." And maybe somewhere in Sam's mind he wanted to know it wouldn't happen again if they disagreed about something. They were stacking up a long line of misunderstandings between them already. What if it was too late for them to lose the hunter's instinct to always be on guard? Then what?

Dean shook his head, "Not like I'm gonna be dealing with my only family member dying on a weekly basis. This thing will dull in me and it'll be back to things as usual." He picked at the food a little more, rolling the bread between his fingers. "So... you're gonna stick with me now then? You said when _we're_ on a hunt..." He looked up at Sam with slightly nervous eyes. Sam seemed to accept the misunderstanding they'd obviously had before but that didn't necessarily fix the months of hurt that had passed before this time. And really, Dean would rather discuss this complicated thing then think more about his dad.

According to everything Sam had trained himself to think; people don't change. "Maybe we need to get through this first... then you'll see how you feel." He withdrew his hand, suddenly feeling a little like too many directions lay out in front of him and he couldn't figure out which one to take. "You were fine hunting by yourself before... You might want to do it again once things settle down a little." Sam sighed. "I don't wanna be..." he couldn't say the words.

With an annoyed sigh Dean pushed back from the table, rising from the chair and crossing to peer out the window at their surroundings. "Damnit why do I even try? Didn't you hear anything I said? You think it was _easy_ for me to admit to those things? You've shaken the very core of everything I know Sam and I don't like it. I don't like how everything feels so... unsure. So excuse me for looking for something solid to hold on to." He curled his hand around the window ledge and kept his eyes fixed out the window.

"Maybe I want someone who's solid on their own. I'm not your excuse to keep it together... You need to find a reason on your own." He hadn't said he was going to leave, hell, he had said he wanted more just not the day after Dean held a gun to his head.

Shaking his head, Dean rolled his shoulders, leaning back against the wall and staring at Sam. "You think because I have one break down I'm not solid on my own? Let me tell you something about my life Sam. I've been alone on this path since the day my mom died. Even when I had people with me I was alone and that's fine, that's the life I lived. I've been hunting since I was fourteen years and before that I knew all about the monsters and the spirits. I'm gonna be just fine if you walk out that door right now. It's gonna hurt like hell, but I'm not gonna kill myself on some crazy hunt. I want you to be around, but if you don't want to be here, I'm not gonna force you." He shoved his hands in his pockets and lifted his eyes, ignoring the sinking in his heart and the nagging in his brain that had told him this was too good to be true and he was just getting his hopes up.

Sam held Dean's gaze for a few moments then looked away; his voice was soft when he spoke, "I didn't say I didn't want to be here. I just meant that I don't think now is the time to be making big decisions."

With a soft sigh Dean pushed up off the wall and headed to the bed, dropping down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah. I just... I need something, you know, to make the hurt stop. But I get it, that it's just not the right time. I'm gonna be shit at this whole thing." He dropped his elbows onto his thighs and buried his head in his hands. If only there was a way to just shut off for awhile, no thoughts, dreams or anything, Dean would appreciate it.

Sam was feeling a bit defeated by the whole thing. Maybe he hadn't gone about it all the right way; he didn't really have any experience with this kind of stuff. _Relationships_. He rubbed his eyes _hard_ for a few moments then stood and walked over to the bed and sat beside Dean. Without saying a word he slipped his arm around the other mans shoulders and pulled him into his side. Words weren't working out so well for him, so he figured he would just show Dean he had no intention of leaving. He kissed Dean's still sleep-tousled hair.

Leaning heavily against Sam's side, Dean tried to simply shut off his brain. On a hunt it was always, find the creature, kill it, no questions asked. This - everything with Sam, with the death of his father - was so very much _more_. It was too overwhelming in his current state of mind. Letting his hand fall on Sam's thigh, he turned and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of the man's lips. "Can we just lay down for awhile? Relax?"

Nodding silently, Sam stood and moved over to the front door to toe off his boots and flip the deadbolt. Crossing his arms he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and tugged it up over his head and hung it over the chair back then walked back around to lie down on the bed.

Dean tugged off his own shirt and tossed it to his duffel back before joining Sam on the bed, lying back on the pillow and spreading his arm to the side. "C'mere," he breathed, head tilting to look at the man.

Sam shifted forward until his head was resting on Dean's shoulder and threw a denim clad leg over Dean's. Of all the words that were racing through Sam's mind, the ones that came out his mouth surprised him, "I'm not going anywhere." His arm slid across Dean's chest, fingers stroking the other man's side gently.

The words worked their way through him, warming his heart slightly and he smiled softly. One hand came up through Sam's hair, fingers lacing in the silky soft texture. "Yeah, me either," he mumbled softly and turned his head to press a kiss to the top of Sam's hair. That feeling of comfortable familiarity coursed through him slowly and he chuckled. "Can you believe we've known each other over four years?"

Smiling, Sam closed his eyes, "only in bits and pieces." That strange thing was that even _in_ those bits and pieces, no one really knew Sam any better than Dean did. Hell, no one else really knew Sam at all. "How old are you?" he suddenly blurted out, "I don't even know."

"You don't?" Dean laughed and let Sam's hair slide through his hair. "I guess I didn't realize, I'd been sort of keeping track of your age. I'm twenty eight. You're um... twenty four now? I never did learn when your birthday was."

Sam laughed quietly, "May 2, Spring baby. My Mom said I never slept at night until I was over one year old. Do you remember your Mom?" So strange, to be having this type of conversation for the first time in four years. It feel more intimate than when they had sex, or when they were lying in bed half clothed or even when he'd spent all that time taking care of Dean when he was injured.

Shifting a little on the bed, Dean thought back over the years and a small, fond smile pulled up the corner of his lips. "Only the vaguest way. I was so young when she died. But I can remember her singing me to sleep. And I can remember her telling me stories. Or sometimes I think I can remember the way she smelt. A lot of that time just feels like a dream, back when our lives were normal. I... I had a little brother too. He was six months old. He died with my mom." Dean pursed his lips and stared up at the ceiling.

Tilting his chin up, Sam watched Dean's face. "I'm sorry... you've lost a lot." He reached up and slipped his hand behind Dean's neck, fingers rubbing the tight muscles. "How old were you? I think you told me once..." So many short sentences over so many years to put together.

"I was four," Dean smiled sadly and relaxed under Sam's touch. "You've lost a lot too. I know... these things affect people in so many different ways. Because of our job, we're both pretty familiar with loss and how it changes people. I think seeing that has helped make the loss easier. Because you just have to learn to accept it, and move on." He wet his lips and continued his gentle stroke through Sam's hair. "When my mom and brother died, I was so little... but my dad... well... obviously that's different. With your parents... how did you... I mean, can you talk about that time? How you decided that hunting was what you were going to do?"

Sam felt his own shoulders stiffen a little and tried to relax, he just hadn't spoken to anyone about his parents, _ever_ , and there had never been any reason. "Well, it took me a while to find out what happened." Sam swallowed and looked down across Dean's chest bringing his hand back to lie across Dean's heart. "I had to find the ambulance attendants who picked them up, my mom died instantly but my Dad," Sam paused and closed his eyes for a few moments, "my Dad talked to them, asked them if the kid was okay over and over. When they found out he had a son they thought maybe he was asking about me, but it didn't make sense. He knew I wasn't with them, _knew_ that I was fine. So... I did some research and learned about the ghost, presence whatever you call them. That was my first hunt." Sam licked his lips, his throat suddenly very dry. "At first, I wanted revenge. But - the more I found out. I mean," he shifted closer, "the kid was murdered, hung from a tree beside the road. It was never his fault he just happened to be there. I don't know. After that, I didn't have any reason to stay at the house. I just liquidated everything and kept driving." He took a deep breath.

"Wow," Dean found himself suddenly very impressed with the man. More than he had been in the previous times of their brief meetings. "That's... pretty fuckin' amazing really. That you had the strength..." he let his hand slide from Sam's hair and massage the tense muscles of his shoulder. "Thank you for telling me. I know it's not exactly in the nature of a hunter to talk about those sorts of things."

"I don't know if it was strength," Sam's brow furrowed and his fingers moved slightly on Dean's warm skin, "I was just a kid myself, and even though I had done all the research on how to deal with the ghost - to me, he was just another kid really. I don't know - that probably sounds crazy." He felt his shoulders loosening a little under Dean's touch. "Was it the same for you, your Mom, your brother?"

"Not really, maybe later, but after it first happened... my dad just threw everything he had left, that wasn't destroyed in the fire, into the car and we left. We stayed at this motel for awhile before he started putting pieces together. I don't know what he saw that night but it was obviously enough to make him realize they didn't die in a normal way. Then there were a lot of times where I waited in the car while he went into places and talked with people, figured things out. And then it was just, motels or I stayed with a few random people until I was old enough to be left alone. Which was about ten or so. By then I could already identify most spirits, I knew how to work most of my dad's weapons, how to cook and fend for myself," Dean shook his head and chuckled softly. "Hell I knew how to forge the man's signature so I didn't have to go to school."

"See... I said before," Sam's eyebrows squeezed together a little, "I said before, kids are resilient, just make the best of things. When you don't know any other way. I mean," Sam shrugged a little, tilting his chin up a little and breathing against Dean's neck, mostly because he wanted to inhale more of the man's scent, "it didn't take me long to learn how to be alone all the time."

"Yeah, me either. You do get used to it. Doesn't mean it's necessarily what you like though. Eventually you just learn how to not let it bother you anymore," Dean slid his arm under Sam's body, pulling him closer. "Also doesn't mean it's how you want it to be forever. I guess I always thought I'd be alone for the rest of my life because I'd never give up hunting. And no one would be willing to make the sacrifice of hunting with me to be with me."

Sam's lips brushed against Dean's neck lightly, "do you ever... think of _not_ being a hunter? Just trying to live like everyone else does?" He held his breath without even knowing it. It wasn't that he _needed_ Dean to answer a certain way - it was just that he'd never even thought about it himself before now.

Falling silent, Dean considered the words for awhile, hand circling flat against Sam's back. "Only on random occasions. Like around Christmas time, when I see families together I think what that would be like. But... I'm not the husband type, or the father type. I think I'd get too restless. Plus I'd always know what was out there... I guess it'd have to be something pretty major to get me to stop. What about you?"

"I guess, I mean I never really thought about it until just now... but I think I would like that." His shoulders sagged a little, "it's been a long time since I had a home. I would... _like_ a home one day." He looked up at Dean again, "guess we're pretty different huh." It was more of a statement than a question.

Staring into Sam's eyes, Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess we are." He wet his lips and let his eyes drift down to Sam's before shifting forward, head tilting to the side to brush a kiss along the man's mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

For every minute Dean managed to not think about the death of his father, there were fifteen more in which it was _all_ he could think about. It wasn't even the first time that Dean had seen someone die. But having the man die in his arms, watching the life fade from his eyes, it was a sight Dean was fairly certain he would never forget. For the first few days after Sam came back into his life he felt like the definition of a roller coaster. One minute they'd be having a perfectly normal conversation and Dean would make one offhand remark about his father and everything would come slamming back full force. He cried more during the time then he would ever admit to but Sam was always there to pull him close, hold him quietly and Dean never felt as if he were being judged. And if it wasn't for the man holding him during the night, he was fairly certain he'd get no sleep at all. Maybe it was the fact that Sam had been through the loss of his parents, but Dean knew he didn't have to explain the tangle of emotions in him. Sam just got it, and he was grateful for that.

Sam felt like he was in some sort of dream world for a while, days passed by without him really knowing what day of the week it was. When Dean was able they went out, walked, drove, and had meals - anything to feel a little normal. Sam didn't mind their simple routine, in fact, he felt himself relaxing a little. When they returned to the Motel room Sam became less and less inclined to have the urge to salt the windows. A little break from hunting seemed to be good for him. He spent a lot of time watching Dean, watching the angle of his shoulders for signs of tension, watching his face for sadness, grief, and happiness - anything that would give him a clue to how Dean was feeling. They spoke, told each other about their lives and Sam felt himself settling down, believing that maybe they could find a way through all of this and somehow end up together on the other side of it.

It was odd, how Dean didn't realize how little he missed hunting until they were suddenly presented with a case. It was a few towns over and they only found out through Ellen. Apparently the woman knew they were staying nearby - whether Sam had informed her, Dean didn't bother asking - and she'd asked if they could take care of a quick little thing. It was fairly easy and Dean decided it was good to switch up motels anyway, the one they'd been in now seemed to be too full with the emotional waves from the past few weeks. Setting up camp in a new motel room felt a little more like a clean slate and it was easy to get his mind to switch back into hunter mode. But it wasn't nearly as satisfying as it used to be and Dean couldn't figure out why. Even when they realized there was more than just the body to salt and burn and they had to go on a wild goose chase for a hair brush that had some old remainders of DNA on it, Dean found himself more annoyed than anything else. The distraction helped with the often fuzzy state of his mind though so he brushed it off and didn't say anything to Sam about the feeling when they'd finally taken care of the problem and the ghost was gone.

After the first job they took, Sam noticed a subtle shift in Dean's mood. He couldn't quite figure out what had changed but Dean was... different somehow. Restless and yet, not. Sam started to think he was just losing his mind, maybe watching Dean _too_ much. He focused on the smaller things that made him happy. They would lay awake some nights talking for hours, Sam would climb into the shower with Dean whenever he was asked. There were many hours all full of kissing, holding, rubbing, moaning - and Sam thoughts began to drift far away from _leaving_ or _being alone again_. In all the words that passed between them, they never spoke about settling down anywhere again. Perhaps, it was because they didn't want to upset the fragile balance they had managed to create, perhaps, they didn't want to face the fact that there might be a time when their paths diverged again.

In all his life Dean had never imagined there would be a time when he actually _enjoyed_ waking up in the mornings. Everything had always been about ritual and steady repetition. Growing up all he knew was the hunt, the things his father ingrained as the most important things in his life. But now... Dean could hardly bring himself to care. Parts of him figured it had to do with the way his dad had died. That would always stick in his mind, the demon's final attack. And other parts - that he buried mostly and refused to think on - suggested maybe this life wasn't the only life for Dean. Sure he was never going to be the father type but it wasn't like he and Sam were going to have kids. But as the weeks passed he found it best to just sit on the thoughts and instead focus on how much he _liked_ having Sam around. First it had been for the comfort and, by the time they'd been together for a month, it was more than that. The ache in Dean's heart for his loss had faded to a more manageable pain. He had accepted what had happened and his emotions were straightening themselves out. Dean could even get through a night without one single nightmare, though he was fairly certain Sam's strong arms around him helped with that.

As Dean healed, Sam grew skittish. He started to wonder if the time would come quickly when Dean would wake up one morning and start packing his bag again. At night, as Dean lay sleeping, Sam would stare at the other man's face trying to see inside, trying to _know_ what Dean wanted. Sam was afraid to say he wanted to stay with Dean, afraid to say he wanted to leave. The thing was, he only wanted to leave when he started to find the tendrils of insecurity creeping into his mind - started to somehow believe that Dean would move on sooner or later. It might have been stupid, but Sam could never quite forget the day he ran after Dean's car. That's the kind of thing you only let yourself do once, be _that_ desperate. Eventually, Sam spent so much of each day with his stomach churning that he gave up drinking coffee figuring it might help. But really, the fact that his stomach was tied in knots had _nothing_ to do with what he was eating or drinking; it had only to do with the strange feeling deep in his chest, the flipping, burning sensation that warmed his whole body when he lay in the dark with his arms wrapped around Dean. He knew there were words for that feelings but he was too scared to give it a name.

Roughly six weeks after the death of Dean's dad, the man was fairly certain things were better. Of course it still hurt but that would always be there, just like he hurt with the loss of his mother or the baby brother he never got a chance to know. But Dean was ready for things to shift, ready to leave this motel, ready for some sort of _something_ with Sam that he couldn't pin point. He'd gotten out of bed before the man, dressed quietly and headed down the street to a cafe they'd both grown fairly fond of over the weeks. The waitress behind the counter put some omelets and hash browns in cartons for them - fruit too, since he knew Sam had this thing about eating healthy - and Dean carried the food plus the coffee back to the motel, humming softly.

When he stepped inside Sam was still asleep and he grinned brightly, setting the food on the table and walking over to stare down at the man. The sheet was pooled around his waist and Dean dropped down onto the edge of the bed, hand coming out to run down the long expanse of his chest. "Wakey wakey Sammy boy," he chuckled, fingers sliding below the blanket and drifting the downy hair at the base of the man's cock.

Smiling, Sam rolled over towards Dean without opening his eyes. "Mmmmm, C'mere..." he yawned, "come back to bed..." When Dean didn't immediately _drop_ everything and get into bed like he _should_ have (Damnit all), Sam cracked his eyes open and peered up at the older man. "Please? I'm warm and I'm adorable. Come..." he patted the bed, "back here."

Chuckling softly, Dean retrieved his coffee cup from the table and sipped from it. "It's tempting, really. But I've got hot food and no microwave... omelets aren't so good cold." He flipped open the nearest carton. "We could eat breakfast in bed? A compromise?"

Groaning, Sam pushed himself up on his elbows. "Okay, but only because you brought omelets and if they're where I think they're from - you're right - they're worth it." He pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard waiting there with a crooked grin on his face.

"They are," Dean grinned and toed out of his boots before carrying the coffees over, setting them on the night stand before going back to the food on the table. " _And_ I had her throw in some cantaloupe and honeydew melon, just for you." He grinned as he handed the food to Sam before climbing onto the bed. Dean tugged off his jacket and laid it across the foot of the bed before taking a carton to Sam. "You're welcome," he smirked and cut into his omelet.

Sam shoved some fruit in his mouth and munched away happily for a while. "How come you're up so early?" He eyes Dean suspiciously, "and how come you're so chipper?" It wasn't much of a secret to Sam that Dean hated mornings.

Dean finished a few more bites of his omelet and shrugged. "I don't know, just woke up in a good mood I guess. I'm... feeling better. Feeling _good_. And for once I'm thinking things are just about over, you know, the insane roller coaster of my emotions. Plus... it's... nice. Waking up. With you here," he smiled a little and stared down at his food, focusing on cutting up pieces and sticking them in his mouth.

Sam put the fruit back down and turned a little, leaning back, "so... you feel better - that's good. What does that mean?" He tried to be clearer - after all - they'd been down this road before. "What does that mean for you and I? Are you going to move on? Start hunting again full-time?" His voice was barely above a whisper when he asked Dean the questions.

"Oh um..." Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder slightly. "I don't know. Maybe we could ask Ellen if she has anything that needs lookin' in to. But if... I don't know if I want to go out of my way to find a hunt you know? What do you think? What would you like to do?" Dean picked at his hash browns then set his food aside to lean across Sam and get his coffee.

Sam figured he could do one of two things, he could keep quiet and say nothing or tell the truth. It took a surprising amount of time for Sam to figure out which way to do it. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dean he just didn't want to hear the wrong answer.

"I..." Sam scratching his nose and stared down at his fruit, "I want to go to school. I've been thinking about it and I think there are things I could be good at, other things besides hunting. But... I want to do it... I don't want to be alone. Well, I don't want to be without you." Sam's body gave an involuntary shiver, emotion flooding through his body.

Dean drank from his coffee quietly for awhile, mulling over Sam's words. He'd known this was coming even if he didn't acknowledge it. Sam had basically told him way back before this even began that he wanted to settle down at some point, that he no longer wanted the life of a hunter. Back then, in the wave of grief and loss, Dean couldn't have imagined a life that didn't revolve around hunting. It was what his father trained him to be. Now though... he realized he'd never been given a choice in the matter. He hunted because it was all he knew but there was that possibility that he could know something else. Though he didn't have the slightest idea what that could be.

Clearing his throat, Dean reached back across Sam to set down his coffee before letting his hands rest on the man's bed sheet covered thighs. "School huh? Have you uh... given any thought as to what you want to go to school for? Or what school looks interesting?" He knew it wasn't much as far as answers went so he looked up to meet Sam's eyes and smiled softly, hoping the man would understand the underlying meaning.

Sam's eyes narrowed, "I don't... no... I haven't I mean, I didn't want to... what are you saying?" He felt a little thrill in his stomach.

"I'm saying..." Dean bit his lip, massaging the muscles under his palms for a few minutes before looking back up. "I'm never gonna be the husband or father type alright? And there may be times when I just want to go on a random hunt to get that repressed energy out. But... I guess... the idea of settling down somewhere, with you, it doesn't sound so bad. I have _no_ idea what I'll do but... we can figure it out." He dragged his eyes up to the man's and gave him a nervous sort of smile. "We could, I don't know, get an apartment or something? I've always wanted a dog. Do you like dogs?"

Smiling, Sam looked down and picked up a piece of fruit. He chewed quietly for a few moments, swallowed, and then said "I like dogs." His heart wasn't beating faster, but it felt like it was suddenly beating stronger. Looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye, he slid another piece of fruit past his lips and mumbled around it, "okay, we can figure it out."

"Okay," Dean nodded, returning the smile as he reached over for his food with renewed interest. "We gotta get out of this motel though man, it's starting to smell in here."

Sam almost choked on his fruit. "That's all _you_ man. I do the laundry... I did... last time..." he shook his head, "I'm not gonna have this conversation." Grinning he shifted further down on the bed and put his food on to the bedside table, the retrieved his coffee. "Who gets to name the dog?"

"I'm older, I get to name the dog. We can get a house plant," Dean chuckled around his hash browns. "You can name that."

Without missing a beat, Sam asked, "which car we keeping?"

"Mine of course. You can keep yours though. You'll need it for school right?" Dean's forehead pulled together slightly. "Maybe we can ask Ellen to look after yours until we get settled. Then we can pick it up?"

"Can I drive yours sometimes?" Sam wasn't even trying to hide the grin on his face anymore

Choking on his hash browns, Dean's eyebrows widened. "Only if you're _really_ good. Jesus I feel like I'm applying for a job already."

"Okay, then you can come with me." Sam nodded. "You already know I'm _really_ good." He took a sip of his coffee.

With a snort of laughter, Dean shook his head. "Why thank you. I feel so honored." He grinned at Sam and threw a piece of hash brown at his face. "Any idea where we'll go?"

"I'll get back to you, I have to look into some schools - think about some things." Sam rolled to put his coffee behind him, and picked up the piece of hash brown looking puzzled for a moment then tossing it behind him. "I've got some planning to do."

"Okay, let me know if I can help," he shifted on the bed to lay the now empty carton on the floor, rolling back up and tugging at the hem of his shirt until the material lifted up and over his head. "How was your breakfast?" He asked as he shifted forward, head dipping down to trail kisses along the man's bare chest.

"Not baaad," Sam drawled, "you expect some sort of reward for bringing it?" Sam could feel his skin starting to flush as his eyes moved over Dean's chest, the curves, and the barely tanned flesh. ""Cause I'm not sure what it was worth. I may have to do some research on that too. Sam's fingers moved up along Dean's neck and pushed into his hair.

"Mm breakfast in bed?" Dean mumbled against the man's flesh, sucking a nipple in and rolling it between his teeth before letting go with a smack of his lips. "I'd say I deserve some sort of reward. A _big_ reward. Cause I got up so early and I remembered to get you healthy food. That's gotta be worth something _massive_." Dean shifted so he could through a leg over Sam's, straddling the man's hips and leaning in to suck at the flesh above his collar bone, hands tangling in their favorite place at the back of Sam's head.

Sam let his head fall back against the headboard and ran his hands down the other man's back and around to clasp hard onto his hips. "Guess we have some negotiating to do," Sam rolled his hips up hard maneuvering Dean's body higher so he could crash their lips together. His lips traced the hot flesh of Dean's mouth, all the flavors mingling together, coffee, fruit and Sam didn't care.

Moaning into the kiss, Dean dropped one hand to work at the button and zipper on his jeans. He wanted to be just as naked as Sam was under those blankets. Pulling back, Dean grinned as he climbed off the bed and slid quickly out of his clothes. "I'm up for some negotiating. Let's see..." he climbed over his lover onto his side of the bed, sliding under the blankets and rolling on his side. "If we take into count what a fuckin' amazing boyfriend I am for getting you the best breakfast in bed ever... I'd say that equals to at least one blow job. Or... maybe more..." His fingers came out to trail along Sam's chest, lower until he could curve them around the man's hipbone.

Sam's body arched forward against Dean's body a little shiver of excitement flowed down across his chest. "Maybe... more...." Sam echoed as his arm snaked over Dean's waist and tightened slowly. Closing his eyes Sam stroked his fingers over the slight curve of Dean's back; flesh barely grazing against flesh. "I guess," he whispered as he dragged his lips down Dean's cheek, "you'll have to see what you can get away with." Kissing and sucking his way back along the firm line of Dean's jaw, Sam smiled to himself and latched on to Dean's neck, nipping gently. Sliding his arm under Dean's neck, Sam pressed their bodies as close together as possible and just took a few deep breaths.

"I think I can do that," Dean grinned, turning his face into Sam's. He rolled them quickly so he could pin the man down onto the bed, falling between his legs when Sam spread them open. Up until this point it had been all sucking and licking and touching and all those things were _really_ great but Dean knew there was more. And he wanted that more but hadn't wanted to cross that line until things were for sure better between them. Or at least certain to last longer than the right now because as much as he was alright with random one night stands with random girls... being with a guy. It seemed like a much bigger deal. Dean continued to grin as he pushed Sam's arms up, held them with a hand clasped on both wrists above his head, dipping down to suck in sections of Sam's chest.

Stretching his arms up Sam twisted as he stretched his body out, letting out a satisfied moan. He spread his legs wider, hips rolling with the twist of his spine; he bit down hard on his bottom lip when his rigid shaft rubbed against the smooth skin of Dean's belly. Unable to reach Dean with his lips, he turned his face into his own arm, mouth open, lips dragging against the skin. Everywhere Dean's lips touched Sam's flesh warmed and he twisted his body constantly trying to chase the other man's mouth.

The feel of Sam writhing beneath him already was shooting through Dean's systems, working to drive him crazy. His hands trailed down Sam's body, along his sides with the gentle scrap of blunt finger nails. Dean pressed a kiss to Sam's abs when the head of Sam's hard shaft brushed against his chin. "Sammy..." he breathes against the rigid flesh, mouthing along the side for a moment before sliding down further to nuzzle at the base of the man's cock. Dean's hands slip to the inside of Sam's thigh, massaging the muscle softly. Another shift of his head and his tongue comes out to spear at the sensitive flesh of Sam's balls, sucking the flesh into his mouth.

Sam’s body was burning up under Dean's hands, his lips, the gentle thrusting and rubbing of their bodies. Those familiar little cool fingers of doubt drum along the edge of Sam's mind. But - he just pushed them back - _no more_. _No more hesitation_ he thinks as his hips snap up against his lover's body. No more holding parts of himself back because he's afraid Dean will leave again. _No more_. The sensation of Dean's hot mouth on his balls started a motion in his body that he had no control over. _More_. "Dean... he murmured, "yesss," slipped out from between his lips.

The way Sam's voice rolled over his shoulders had Dean moaning as he thoroughly soaked the flesh in front of him. His eyes lifted up to the man as he sucked a finger into his mouth, wetting it thoroughly and releasing it with a smack. Letting his tongue drag flat up the underside of Sam's cock, Dean swirled the crown with his tongue as his index finger slid low and back, resting against tight muscle. "Can I?" He asked, voice deep and husky with arousal. His heart was thudding heavily against his chest, just the very idea of slipping into such tight heat was shooting tendrils of pleasure straight through to his cock and he rolled his hips against the mattress.

Letting his arms relax, Sam's hands fell in front of his face for a few moments as he got his breath back; the sound of Dean's voice stirred up something overwhelming in Sam. _Fuck_ he wanted him. "Yes," he murmured, dragging his hands down his own glistening chest and settling them on Dean's soft hair. "Anything you want..."

Dragging his tongue across his lips, Dean smirked slightly, "Easy negotiations," he chuckled and curled one hand around the base of Sam's hard shaft. With one stroke up he pressed the tip of his finger forward, instantly being pulled into tight muscle that was so hot Dean felt like his finger was burning. His eyes lifted up to watch Sam's reactions as he pushed his finger slowly forward into the second knuckle. It was so impossibly tight he couldn't even fathom how anything more could fit alongside his one finger.

It shocked Sam, the sensation and the pain. He heaved his body up off the bed a few inches, “w..wait...”. It burned and his muscles clenched. Trying to slow his breathing he reached down to smooth his fingers through Dean’s hair and gradually relaxed back into the mattress. He'd never felt anything like it and then Dean's rough hand stroke up against his semi-hard cock and Sam moaned, head rolling to the side. His fingers loosened from Dean's hair and his hips started a gentle motion again.

Keeping his finger perfectly still, Dean continued to stroke along Sam's flesh until the man was moaning once more. "Okay to move?" He asked quietly, watching the slight tilt of Sam's head. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, squeezing the flesh in his palm as he continued his slow push forward. Once he'd managed to get his index finger completely buried, he crooked his finger slightly, twisting slightly. "Still okay?"

"O...okay…" Sam's body was trembling, hands fisted into the sheets, head tipping back on the pillow. "S'okay," he murmured again then his body jumped as Dean's finger swept over something inside him; something that sent shock waves radiating out from his hips. He moaned, his hips twisting to the side following the sensation. When he was able to finally suck in a lung full of air the burning in his ass was being taken over by the pleasure of the sensation. As his heart spend up his heated blood rushed through every part of his body.

Dean worked to hit that spot in Sam again, just to watch the reaction ripple through him. Twisting his wrist and squeezing slightly, Dean dragged his hand up Sam's flesh. "Jesus Sammy," Dean breathed as he stared down at the man beneath him. He looked amazing spread out like this and Dean shifted to uncurl another finger, pressing it against the tight ring of muscle and hovering there. Breath catching slightly, Dean pushed both fingers forward, sliding back enough to watch the muscle stretch around his fingers.

It was like nothing Sam had ever felt before. He felt stretched, full, the pain was dulled by the sensations of _Dean_ everywhere against him. Every so often Dean would his _that_ spot inside him and Sam would feel his body start to come apart. Soon enough, he was panting; beads of sweat covered his forehead, neck and chest. Each time he pushed breath out of his body his chest twitched a little, when he dragged in oxygen it was hard not to gasp. His hands moved constantly, from his own hips to Dean's cheek to the sheets; the nervous flutter an attempt to try and keep himself under control.

Watching Sam move beneath him was worth the ache in his crotch, the intense need to be buried deep in him. But Dean could only be so patient and when it was clear that Sam had adjusted to the feel of two fingers, he pulled back, hopping off the bed and dropping beside his duffel bag. Before Sam could really even notice he was gone, Dean was clambering back between his legs and flipping up the cap on the bottle of lube and squirting it over his fingers before sliding them forward. Once more his hand curled around Sam's cock as he brought three well lubricated fingers to the tight ring of muscle and gently pushed forward, breath hitching slightly.

He wanted Dean's mouth again, but he was way past the point where he could string coherent sentences together so Sam just moaned and keened and trembled and _God_... Sam shifted his legs, giving Dean more room, moving his own straining muscles. As he moved, his hips tilted forward, his ass clenched around Dean's fingers and he growled softly. "Dean..."

"Jesus Sammy," Dean's growl was just as deep as he twisted his fingers inside the man, scissoring the muscle and stretching. "I wanna be buried in you," he dropped his head to the man's hipbone, pressing a trail of kisses along the flesh. "God can I... is it okay?" He pushed up to look at Sam's features, trying to read his expression.

A sound of desperation broke out of Sam's mouth and his hips pressed up into Dean's kisses. "Want you..." he murmured. He could feel Dean's breath warm and moist on his sensitive skin and mustered the energy to lean up... "please... Dean..." He reached out a hand.

Pulling his fingers out, Dean panted softly as he slid up Sam's body, crashing their lips together. The idea of being in Sam was suddenly so intense and he _needed_ it more then he could stand. Thrusting his tongue into the man's mouth, Dean groaned into the kiss before pushing back. He knelt between Sam's spread legs, squirting cool liquid into his palm and running it sloppy and wet over his hard flesh. His eyes lifted to peer into Sam's, pulling the man's legs up as his hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and he positioned himself at the entrance. "Okay?"

Sam's voice was thick with lust, "okay, _now_ , please... Dean..." and he shifted grazing just the tip of Dean's cock. Sam's spine twisted as he pleaded with the other man. Everything in Sam's body was aching and needing; he was so close to being out of control he was almost scared. If he'd been with anyone else...

"Yeah, now," Dean grunted as he shifted just slightly forward and guided just the crown of his cock inside muscle so tight it encased him and instantly sucked him further in. " _Jesus_ ," he hissed, slamming his eyes closed as pleasure more intense than anything he'd ever felt shot up his spine. The muscle seemed to pull him in and one quick thrust of the hips later and he was buried balls deep in the man, leaning forward and panting harshly to keep his control.

 _Thank God_ , Sam could finally touch Dean - his large hands moved over Dean's shoulder blades, nails digging in. When Dean's cock slid inside his body everything in Sam's body rebelled. His muscles tried to push Dean out and it only brought him further inside, _God_ , inside. Raking his blunt nails down Dean's back his hands settled on the other man's hips, fingers gently urging Dean to move, thrust, "fuck me... please..." Sam's throat felt like sandpaper, his lungs on fire and he clung to Dean.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Dean gasped at Sam's words, sparks of pleasure twisting in his gut. Pulling back, Dean met Sam's eyes as his cock slid almost completely out before rocking back in. Sweat was already working its way down his back in quick beads, sliding lower with each thrust forward and pull back. "So good, so good," he chanted, quickening his thrusts each time, hands tightening on Sam's legs. The pleasure was almost too much, too intense, but Dean drank it all in greedily.

Sam’s fingers danced back up over Dean's sides, his arms and then curled over his shoulders. Each thrust sent his blood racing harder as his body rocked down into the mattress. Pulling one hand forward across Dean's cheek Sam slid his thumb across the other man's bottom lip, dipped it slowly into his warm, wet mouth then dragged it back across the lip leaving it wet and shining. Dean's face was flushed, his eyes heavy lidded and Sam could see the pulse throbbing hard in his neck. And then, in the flash of a moment Sam's vision faded as Dean's cock grazed that spot deep within him once more. He cried out, low and long, hand grabbing on to Dean's hair stopping just short of causing him pain.

Dean had never heard a noise quite like the one that Sam made when he grazed that spot in him and he aimed for it over and over, wanting to hear the sound again. More. " _Sammy_ ," he growled, quickening his pace. The pressure was far too much for him to keep this up much longer, Dean could already feel his orgasm curling in on him. The faster he moved, the harder he drove into him, the more Dean's vision blurred at the edges. "Gonna..." he warned, driving hard down into Sam, aiming for the spot he knew drove him crazy.

It felt like Sam was being pulled apart, desire washed over him in waves and his body moved almost uncontrollably. Writhing under Dean, their bodies rubbed and collided - each thrust sending Sam closer and closer to his release. Muscles clenched tightly around Dean's cock Sam reached down, fingers moving over his own hard shaft. His cock was so sensitive, gliding his hand over the hot flesh once made his balls ache and his spine arch up painfully off the mattress. Dean's body lunged forward and Sam felt the other man's cock throbbing in his ass and what was remained of Sam's control was gone. As Sam came, hot and slick over his own hand and belly he felt like the bones simply melted out of his body.

The muscles around Dean tightened on him, squeezing impossibly tight around his cock and Dean could no longer hold on. His head dipped down and he watched Sam come as his own orgasm pulled at his senses. With half a dozen quick stutter thrusts he emptied his load in his lover, moaning the man's name low and in the back of his throat. His thrusts slowed to gentle rocks as the passion flared out and after a few more moments he collapsed on top of Sam, sliding out and groaning softly. "Damn..."

Arms leaden and aching, Sam shifted so he could slide them over Dean and pull him as close as possible. He could feel his own come, wet and warm between them as his ass twitched and burned. Burying his head in Dean's shoulder, Sam breathed in the smell of _them_. "Yeah..." was all he could manage after a few moments of swallowing and panting.

Dean wasn't going to lie, he had slept with his fair share of people of the years. This though? Dean knew it was bigger than that. Knew it was _more_ than that and the idea was amazing and terrifying at the same time. A shaky breath left Dean's lips as he rolled to the side, pulling Sam with him so the man could rest half on his chest. A hand came up through Sam's hair, smoothing back the familiar silk. Whatever it was curling through him Dean didn't try to name, even if he may already know and could possibly be simply too scared of it to acknowledge it with a proper name.

Sam let himself be moved, unable to really do much about it and flopped helplessly forward onto Dean's chest. Groaning softly Sam shifted so his lips were pressed against Dean's ear. "Dean..." Sam swallowed a few times and ran his tongue along the shell of Dean's ear. He wanted to never leave, never be alone in a motel room again, he wanted Dean with him. And, it wouldn't hurt if they could do this... as often as possible. Sam sucked Dean's ear lobe in between his lips, then let it go and whispered, "love you." He stilled, realizing what he'd said and waited, body shaking slightly.

Tightening his arm around Sam's body, Dean slowly tilted his head to the side so he could gaze at Sam's features. That was it, the thing tugging under the surface that Dean had never really felt before. Certainly not for anyone outside his father and that was a whole different type of love. A slow smile tugged up the corners of his lips and he leaned in to brush their mouths together. "Yeah Sam," he whispered against the man's lips. "Love you too." His heart kick started just saying the words but it felt good. _Really_ good. So that made the wash of warmth worth it.

-=-=-=- December 2006 -=-=-=-

Pushing the door open, Dean stuck his head around the solid wood, scanning the living room. "Sam?" He called and reached up to shift the duffel bag on his arm, adjusting the wiggling creature trying to poke his nose out. A smile curved his lips up as he pushed the door the rest of the way open, turning to close it quietly. "Shh..." he urged to the puppy, eyes darting down the hallway toward the bedroom. If he'd timed it just right - which he was fairly certain he had - Sam was currently in the middle of his post work relaxation shower.

Dean crossed the living room in quick strides, setting the duffel bag on the couch and unzipping it to pull open the top. The puppy bounded out instantly, licking at the nearest free patch of skin. "Down dude," Dean chuckled and scooped the animal up in his arms. He headed down the hallway and leaned against the doorframe. The past week he'd been on a hunt, helping out Ellen as he did occasionally. His heart sped up in his chest as the shower turned off. Missing Sam was like missing a vital body organ and Dean would never grow tired of the need to see him, be near him. Plus, he was home a day early which probably meant he'd get some sort reward. Hopefully involving no clothing and Sam spread out beneath him...

Clearing his throat, Dean shifted against the door frame, cradling the eager puppy in his arms, eyes lifting as the bathroom door fell open in a wave of steam.

Sam was humming and towel drying his hair as he walked out into the bedroom, towel slung around his hips. When the towel lifted from his face he jumped back a step, "Jesus Christ, Dean!" It only took a few moments for him to get over his shock and move quickly over Dean, "you scared the sh..." His eyes fell on a little furry, brown, wriggly ball of fur with two dark eyes. He laughed and stepped up to Dean startling the puppy. "Hey, little bit... who are you?" He leaned in and kissed Dean's mouth, _hard_ , "hey _you_ , you're back early."

"Finished up earlier than expected," Dean grinned and bent over to set the dog on the floor. He chuckled as he instantly took off, nose leading the way. Dean rose and stepped instantly into Sam. One hand settled on his hip just above the towel, the other cupped the back of his neck and he dragged the man in for a heated kiss that lasted several long minutes. "Mm missed you," he murmured as he pulled back, tongue coming out to trace along the curve of his lower lip.

Warmth flooded through Sam's body, his cock twitching the instant Dean touched him. " _God_ , I swear you're like a drug." He took a deep breath and leaned in to drag his tongue up Dean's stubble... "But, seriously," he said, "you can't think you compare with a puppy." Sam took off after the dog throwing a grin back over his shoulder.

Chuckling fondly at his lover, Dean tugged off his coat and crossed to the closet to hang it up. "Yeah you like him now. Wait until he pees all over the back seat of _your_ car and see how you like it." He returned the coat and hanger to the closet and toed out of his boots. "I named him Wesson by the way. Unless you can think of something better. Half an hour with the pup and I figured it fit." He lifted his legs up to tug off his socks, face scrunching up at the smell before he tossed them toward the laundry basket.

"Dude!" Sam yelled as he raced past the bedroom door after the puppy, "he's awesome." A few minutes later, Sam came back into the room, panting, "he's a fast little beast - I almost lost my towel." He grinned and walked over and pressed up against Dean's back, "Ugh... you smell like a hunter," but that didn't stop him from nuzzling into Dean's hair.

Leaning back into Sam, Dean's eyes slid closed and he pulled in the comfort of the man. "You know... I wouldn't complain about you loosing that towel..." he chuckled softly, reaching behind him to lay his hands on Sam's waist.

"One track mind," Sam muttered as he bit his way down Dean's neck, "the puppy was chewing on your other boots when I came back in here." He grinned.

"What?" He stepped away from Sam and turned to the hall, calling out, "Wesson! Those are my best pair you better drop 'em!" He looked over his shoulder at Sam and snorted a laugh. "I can tell you're gonna be _loads_ of help."

Laughing, Sam followed Dean out of the room and watched him wrestle his boots away from the puppy. The funny thing was, best boots or not, Dean wasn't really trying all that hard to get them away from Wesson. Sam was still smiling when he sat down on the couch, shifting his new course list out of the way. "I suppose I could take puppy training instead of," he paused, looking down at the opening college calendar, "Introduction to Anthropology." His heart did that weird little flip thing when Dean looked up at him and smiled.


End file.
